


We'll Be Together Never (Forever)

by Lady_Akuma_Wolf



Category: Sanders Sides
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assault, Bullying, Child Abuse, Depression, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, M/M, Other, Racism, Rankism, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, Soulmates, Supremacism, Transphobia, physical assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-20 15:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 97,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14897223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Akuma_Wolf/pseuds/Lady_Akuma_Wolf
Summary: Patton Sanderson makes friends with outcast Virgil Samuels, mostly elective mute and said to be Soulless. Patton, however, knows better - he's seen it. Virgil's Soulmate is just shy. Unlike his own, Roman, all dramatics and red ink and Disney references.When Virgil's family almost beat him to death and abandon him outside of a hospital, Patton's parents take in the quiet boy their son has befriended and show him what a real family is like.High school is a hell of bullies and anxiety attacks, except for the metal band Virgil, Talyn, Joan, and a few friends start. Skip ahead to college, the band taking off, and the upcoming 'date' of Patton meeting Roman, something else also happens that no one was expecting.I mean, what are the odds, right?





	1. I see you

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Child abuse, bullying, reference to pedophilia

September, 2007.

Patton became friends with Virgil in second grade.

The quietest boy in class, Patton hadn’t even been sure Virgil could speak for over a month. The dark-haired boy was thinner than even his own lean, slight form, though his clothes were always baggy on him and had holes. He never raised his hand in class, was ignored by all the teachers, never looked anyone in the eye, and sat by himself during recess and lunch. When Patton noticed the other boy never ate during lunch, he asked his parents to start packing extra, after explaining why, they were more than happy to do so, glad and proud that their son was going out of his way to be kind and make friends with the class outcast

“Here,” Patton plopped himself down onto the grass next to Virgil, handing him a paper bag, stuffed to bursting with food, just as his always was.

Virgil eyed the package warily and didn’t move to take it from the spectacled Elite boy.

Patton huffed. “It’s _food_ , silly. It’s not going to bite you, you’re supposed to bite it!” he paused. “You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” he hadn’t thought to ask that.

Virgil silently shook his head as he slowly took the bag from the other boy and opened it to find _two_ peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grapes, apple juice, and home-made chocolate chip cookies.

Patton took a huge bite out of his own sandwich, enjoying the amazing taste of peanut butter and Crofter’s jam. “I saw you never bring food, so I asked my mum to pack you some, too! She was happy to.”

Still cautious, Virgil hesitantly popped a grape in his mouth, hands clutching the brown paper bag as if someone might snatch it away, or scold him for eating. “Thank you,” he whispered, barely able to meet the other boy’s gaze before returning his eyes to the ground.

Patton grinned at his friend, happy to finally hear him speak. But at the same time, ever the protective, worried child-parent, frowned inside at the other boy’s lack of his own lunch, not understanding why his own parents didn’t pack him a lunch, or give him lunch money. And then there was Virgil’s behavior, his lack of speaking and nervous and sometimes fearful gaze, and ratty, ill-fitting clothes.

That and more made him the target for bullies.

The following Thursday Patton had been attempting to find his new friend for lunch when he saw three third graders shoving Virgil around, his battered bookbag in a nearby puddle, laughing as they played a rude game of hot potato with Virgil’s body between the three of them.

Enraged, Patton stormed up to them. “Hey! Leave Virgil alone!”

One of the third graders laughed. “What do you care about Homeless Soulless?” he sneered. “I know who you are, Sanderson. You’re from one of the Elite Families. What does it matter to you what happens to this piece of trash?”

“He’s my _friend_.” Stated Patton indignantly. “Leave him alone!”

One of the other bullies chuckled. “Do your parents know you’ve lowered yourself to speak with this mute Soulless piece of shit? My Father said he’s on a list of Soulless to be ‘used’ by the government.”

“As a matter a fact, my parents know all about Virgil.” Patton retorted. “They don’t care if I’m friends with him; in fact, they want to meet him!” It was true; they had even given him permission to invite Virgil over for dinner sometime that weekend, even to spend the night if he wished and his parents agreed.

Bully Number One – whom Patton now recognized as Martin Dahlmer, a member of one the Elite families in the state, just as the Sandersons were – laughed cruelly, shaking Virgil by his overly-large sweatshirt. “What do you know, Soulless? You’re already being scouted for servitude! Maybe they’ll enjoy using you like Mr. Henderson does!”

Virgil’s eyes remained on the ground, but his lips, only observable to Patton, were mouthing the words ‘run away, or they’ll get you, too.’

Patton didn’t give a crap what the bullies did to him as long as he could help his friend. He was also worried about the implication that one of their teachers was hurting Virgil.

The third bully cocked her head. “What makes you say he’s Soulless, Martin? Shall we prove it to poor Four-Eyes?”

Martin smirked, shifting his rough hold on Virgil, tightly wrapping his arms around the thin boy’s waist. “Pull up his sleeves, Pansy, and you’ll see.”

“Leave him alone!” Patton shouted, dropping his own bookbag as well as the lunch bags, fists clenched tightly as he advanced on the group only to be caught around the waist by the other bully. “Let him go!” he shrieked. “Let him go!!”

“Hold still, Four-Eyes!” hissed the other bully, dragging Patton closer so they could observe. “Or should we play with you, too?”

Virgil began struggling uselessly against Martin’s hold and Pansy’s hands as they gripped his wrists and yanked the baggy sleeves up to his elbows, revealing words written in purple ink.

**_Please, I know you’re there. What’s your name?_ **

**_My name is V._**

**_Hello?_ **

**_Why do you hate me?_ **

**_Talk to me, please…_ **

**_Hello?_ **

**_If you hate me, that’s ok. Just at least tell me why._ **

There were no responses, not even any marks from pens or highlighters on his hands.

There was nothing.

Pansy shrieked with laughter. “You just don’t get it, do you, Soulless? You’re so worthless the universe didn’t even bother to give you a Soulmate!”

Martin shoved Virgil to the ground. “Even my serial killer great uncle had one! What does the say about you, huh?” he kicked Virgil in the stomach.

“Maybe his Soulmate is just shy!” Patton protested, trying to ignore the fact more children were gathering around to gawk at the spectacle instead of stepping in to help.

It wasn’t every day one got to see a Soulless up close and personal, especially a child Soulless.

“Maybe his Soulmate hates him and knows just how stupid, disgusting, and worthless he really is!” the bully holding Patton cried, laughing. “Maybe they know to reject him for their own safety! Who would want to be Mated with a mute idiot, anyway?”

Virgil was still curled on the ground, one arm wrapped around his stomach, and the other shielding his head as Pansy emptied her water bottle on him, taunting “Homeless Soulless! Homeless Soulless!”

“What on Earth is going on here?!”

The bully holding Patton released him, and Patton ran to his friend, dropping to his knees, hands hovering over Virgil’s shaking shoulder, not wanting to touch him after the bullies had been tormenting him without his friend’s permission. He ignored the lies Martin, Pansy, and the other spun for the teacher, focusing instead on his friend. “Virgil, it’s Patton.” He murmured. “Can I help you sit up?”

When Virgil nodded, Patton slipped his hands around the other boy’s shoulders and helped him into a sitting position, wet hair plastered to his face.

“Hey,” Patton murmured, wiping some of the hair away from Virgil’s eyes. “Are you ok?”

Stupid question, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Virgil nodded again silently, lips parted like he wanted to ask a question, but stopped when the teacher stormed over.

“Virgil, you will come with me to the Principle’s Office, and we will be calling your parents. Attacking others because of your jealousy at their having a Soulmate is truly horrid behavior, young man.”

Fear and horror flared to life in Virgil’s dark eyes at the mention of calling his parents, but he didn’t open his mouth to protest. It would not have worked, anyway.

Patton looked up at the teacher – Mr. Henderson, who taught math. Of course it had to be him – his mouth open in shock. “ _They_ were bullying _him!_ ”

Mr. Henderson snorted in disdain. “Don’t believe his lies, Mr. Sanderson. Creatures like that will say anything to get even a taste of what the rest of civilized society has. Come with me, Virgil. _Now!_ ”

Virgil shakily gathered himself to his feet, not even bothering to grab his bookbag as Mr. Henderson lead him away, a hand on the small of his back.

Patton immediately seized his friend’s bookbag before the bullies could get to it, intent on giving it to his friend later on in English.

Virgil was absent the rest of the day.

That night, Patton sat subdued and silent at the dinner table, pushing the spaghetti around his plate and his parents talked about their day. Sounded like his father had had a very eventful day in the ER, and his mother was a home-care nurse for a couple of rich, elderly people in the city, the vast majority who seemed to act just as spoiled and rude as their grandchildren.

“Patton, son, what’s wrong? Was it a bad day at school?” Daniel asked, frowning worriedly at his son when he picked up on his son’s troubled vibe.

“My friend, Virgil… some bullies were picking on him.” Patton said softly after a moment. “And then _he_ was the one who got hauled into the Principle’s office, not them, they didn’t get into trouble at all! All because they’re from Elite families!”

Daniel and Martha frowned at each other across the table. They knew quite a bit of other Elite families got away with a lot, all because of who they were related to. “What happened, in your own words.”

Patton set his fork down on the table, hands clenching into fists in his lap. “Martin Dahlmer and Pansy Harolds and someone I didn’t recognize were shoving him around, calling him names. I tried – I tried to get them to stop!” he looked up at his parents. “But they wouldn’t!”

“Why didn’t you go and get a teacher?” Martha asked her son.

“I didn’t want to leave him alone.” He explained. “Then… then one of them grabbed me around the waist so I couldn’t get to them, and Martin held Virgil so Pansy could roll up his sleeves.”

Daniel understood. “They think he’s Soulless, don’t they? Poor boy.”

Patton glared up at his father. “He’s not! His Soulmate is just shy! It took me months to start talking to mine!”

Roman. All dramatics and red ink and Disney references.

“How do you know that about him? Last we knew, he still wasn’t talking verbally to you beyond a thank you for lunch.”

“Because one time when we were reading, a small streak of blue ink showed up on his hand!” Patton retorted, his volume rising. “You should have seen his face, it was the first time I’ve seen him smile!”

Martha leaned forward, confused. “Then why do they think he’s Soulless if he obviously has one?”

“Because they never write back to him. As soon as he started writing back, trying to get them to talk to him, the blue ink vanished.”

Daniel and Martha shared a look.

“What is it?” Patton demanded, worried. “Tell me, please! I need to help him!”

“There are these… people…. Groups of them, who don’t believe they should be tied down to their Soulmate.” Martha said finally.

“Martha,” Daniel started to say. “Are you sure –”

“He needs to know so he can help his friend.” Martha retorted, glaring angrily at her husband. Then she turned her attention back to her son. “My sister joined such a group after learning her Soulmate was another woman.”

Patton hadn’t known that about his aunt, whom he had never met, and now didn’t ever want to meet. “What happened to her Soulmate?”

Martha’s mouth became a hard, thin line. “She killed herself when my sister rejected her.”

Protective rage filled his veins. “What about Virgil?” he asked quietly. “How is that happening to him? We’re just kids!”

“Sometimes, people belonging to groups like that have children with each other, and are raised to ignore their Soulmate,” Martha told him sadly. “There’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.”

“What will happen to him?” Patton worried. “What happens to people like that when their Soulmate rejects them?”

Daniel took over. “There are medications to help with the loss and depression. Some find a job which keeps them too busy to think about the loss. One of the doctors I work with at the ER had the same thing happen to her. Other find others who have been rejected by their Soulmate, or lost them in one way or another or even someone who is Soulless.”

Patton’s mind was reeling. “But… he’s just a kid!”

“Then you be there as his friend, no matter what happens,” Martha told him. “Have him over for supper some time, so we can meet him.”

“Martin said something about the government and a list. What did he mean?”

Daniel frowned angrily. “People who were Soulless used to be rounded up and experimented on, to see what went wrong with them, why the didn’t have a Mate.” He explained. “Thankfully, in most countries including ours, it is no longer done.”

“But it is still in some?” asked Patton fearfully.

“Yes.”

OoOoO

To say Virgil was scared for his parents to find out about what had happened to him at school was a vast, vast understatement. He could hear his mother screeching over the phone at how she would take care to teach him a lesson he would never forget, at how this would never, ever happen again. When she arrived – her husband trailing after her, seeming to be more embarrassed than angry – Virgil was almost surprised she wasn’t frothing at the mouth.

“What do you have to say for yourself, boy?” she demanded. “Starting fights because you’re a jealous, Soulless loser? You’re lucky if I don’t tan your hide so bad you can’t sit for a week!” She turned her attention to the Principle and Mr. Henderson. “I am so, so sorry for my boy’s behavior,” she simpered. “It will _not_ happen again.”

Mr. Henderson smirked at her before turning his gaze onto Virgil, who could feel the weight of the other man’s gaze. “If you need any assistance or have any questions on how to deal with a Soulless offspring, just let me know. I have had to help a number of parents deal with such results over my many years of teaching.”

Virgil shuddered inside; he didn’t like the way Mr. Henderson looked at him, or the way the man would pull him into his lap after the rest of the class had left to discuss his homework.

“As long as your son can learn to control himself, I don’t see why we need to deal with this any further.” The Principle inserted, acting almost happy.

“It won’t be, trust me.” Virgil’s mother hissed, seizing his sweatshirt. “With your permission, I will take my son home to discuss his terrible behavior with him for the rest of the day.”

The Principle waved a hand dismissively. “Go ahead, Mrs. Samuels.”

Virgil sat frozen in fear in the back of the car on the way home. It wasn’t like his parents didn’t know the truth. But apparently having a Soulless son was better than having a son who was rejected by his Soulmate.

He knew what came next.

His mother dragged him to the basement, her husband joining them. “Strip.” She demanded.

“Moira, don’t leave too many marks where they can be seen.” he admonished, taking a seat to watch the show.

“I know that, John!” she spat, seizing a belt from the wall. “I’m not an idiot like his father was!”

John had long ago forgiven Moira’s dalliance in high school that had resulted in the birth of Virgil, but no one else knew. It wouldn’t be good for their reputation.

Virgil dragged stripping to his boxers out as long as he dared but knew doing so would only prolong and worsen the punishment he was about to receive.

“Can’t even look at us, can you, boy?” Moira spat, slapping him across the face, splitting his lip. “Turn around and raise your hands!”

Virgil did as he was told, not jumping when Moira grabbed his hands and cuffed them to the hook in the basement wall, barely allowing his toes to touch the ground.

“Stupid, horrible, disgusting boy!”

 _Strike_.

“Worthless trash!”

 _Strike_.

“I wish you were Soulless!”

 _Strike_.

“You’re an embarrassment!”

 _Strike_.

 _Strike_.

“We should just get rid of you!”

 _Strike_.

Then his father – no, John – interjected “Well, maybe we should. They do allow that, you know. At the hospitals and such. It is Nebraska, after all.”

The belt lashing stopped for a moment. “And how would we explain that?” she hissed. “That would destroy our reputation here!”

John chuckled. “Who said we’d be staying here? I’ve… recently come into some money. A good deal of it, actually. We could go _anywhere_ you want, love. Without that _thing_ burdening us down. We could remake ourselves the way we want.”

Moira’s footsteps moved away from Virgil for a moment. “Oh, John do you mean it? Anywhere?”

He kissed her soundly. “Of course I do! Anywhere in the world!”

Kisses turn into moans. The two of them barely made it up the stairs to the kitchen before the moans turned into skin slapping on skin, and screams of “Oh fuck yes, right there! Yes, yes, yes!”

Virgil, used to this, tuned the sounds out.

After the adults finished, Moira returned, a fresh gleam of rage and hatred in her eyes.

The rest of the evening, from the belt on his back, to getting hosed down with ice-cold water, to being – finally, finally – taken down and shoved into a dog crate on the floor to sleep overnight, he remained silent, eyes downcast.

He hoped his parents would get rid of him, one way or the other.

They had spoken about disposing of his body in front of him, too.

No one would even miss him.

_“Hey! Leave Virgil alone!”_

It was the first time – and most likely the last – someone had ever come to his rescue.

It had been shocking. It had been unexpected. He still was waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Patton to reveal his true colors, but more and more Virgil thought – hoped – that it was real, that it was true.

He had finally found a friend.

But now… after what had happened… would Patton still want to be friends?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:graphic child abuse both physical and verbal, brief panic attack, mention of suicide idealation, pedophilia and bullying

Patton was glad his parents had given him explicit permission to defend himself and Virgil from the bullies at school, saying that they would not hold it against him even if the school did. Martha, a former martial arts instructor before she finished her nursing degree showed him a few basic moves, including how to get out of the hold the bully had had him in the day before with the promise of teaching him and Virgil more.

 On the way to school the next morning it started misting, and the dark clouds on the horizon promised more rain in the very near future. Not good, since it limited their hiding spots to indoors only, Patton thought sourly, staring out the window of his father’s car on the way to school.

Then something caught his eye.

“Dad, wait!” he shouted, whipping around to look out the back window. “That’s Virgil!”

Daniel pulled over to the side of the road, muttering under his breath about idiot parents who let their children walk to school in crappy weather, not to mention so young.

Patton unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the car, trotting up to the slouched figure attempting to hide inside his hoody. “Virgil, hey! C’mon, we’ll give you a ride – it’s gonna start raining cats and dogs soon! Well, not literally, but that would be so cute! I have your bookbag, too!” He linked arms with Virgil and tugged him to the car, trying to ignore how his friend flinched when he was touched.

Daniel frowned at how his son’s friend was moving stiffly, carefully, as if his body pained him as he climbed into the back seat along with Patton. He desperately wanted to ask, his emergency room doctor training screaming at him that something was very wrong with the slight boy. “Hello, Virgil! It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Patton talks so highly of you! My name is Daniel.”

Virgil peered out from under his bangs at the seemingly friendly adult warily. “Hello. Thank you for the ride, Sir.” He whispered, eyes falling to his knees as he fumbled blindly for his seatbelt.

Daniel smiled at the boys. “Not a problem at all! Not a day to be walking in the rain.” _Where the bloody hell are your parents?! Why are they letting you walk in the rain, and alone?_ He wanted to demand instead, but held his tongue, vowing to talk to some of his friends on the police force. As he pulled away from the curb, the skies let loose, dumping rain onto them.

In the rearview mirror, Daniel watched his son take Virgil’s almost frail-looking hand in his own and smile at the quiet boy, talking about the latest comic book he had been reading.

OoOoO

Virgil had been shocked when John had come down to the basement and let him out as dawn attempted to light up the cloudy sky; he hadn’t been expecting to be allowed to go to school today, not after the beating he had received the night before.

“Go shower, change, and go to school,” John ordered, eyes glittering dangerously. “Don’t get into trouble today, or you will regret it!”

Not wanting to give him a reason to change his mind, Virgil bolted on quiet feet up the stairs, spotting his mother passed out on the couch, an empty vodka bottle on the end table. His shower was barely five minutes in cold water – “Soulless monsters don’t get to use hot water!” – and dressed in black pants with only four holes and tears in them, and a clean purple t-shirt with a ripped collar, and his favorite black sweatshirt. His worn sneakers followed – no socks – wishing he had a way to fix the rip in the left one. With the raining on its way, he was bound to end up with cold, wet feet by the end of the day.

Now he just had to hope and pray that his bookbag and its contents hadn’t ended up in a tree, toilet, or ditch.

When a sleek black Volvo pulled up to the curb in front of where he was walking, he’d almost had a heart attack, fearing Martin and his brother had spotted him.

Then it turned out to be Patton.

He braced himself to be scolded, ridiculed, or cast away for the events of the previous day.

He hadn’t been expecting Patton to loop their arms and tug him into the warm, dry safety of the car.

Patton’s father, Daniel, greeted him with a smile, no hint of disgust or disdain anywhere on his face or in his eyes.

_Was it possible Patton hadn’t told them what he was? Surely they had heard about the fight at school…_

Maybe he was just better at hiding it than most other people.

Maybe he was like Mr. Henderson, and wanted… something… from him.

Virgil hoped Daniel wasn’t like Mr. Henderson towards his own son.

And then Patton, as if sensing his warring emotions, took his cold hand in his warm one and just smiled, like touching without pain or disgust was the most natural thing in the world to do with a Soulless.

Not that he was a Soulless, but he was just as good as.

Some days, he wonders if he had just imagined the blue ink, and Patton had just pretended to see it and be excited to be kind.

Sometimes, Virgil didn’t want to be here anymore.

OoOoO

School was, shockingly, uneventful. Martin, Pansy, and their cronies were too busy with homework (wouldn’t want to get worse grades than some of the _Commons_. They were Elites! They couldn’t appear to be as stupid as _Commons_ ).

Patton hated how the other Elites behaved at this school – though he suspected the vast majority of Elites were like they were, and was forever thankful his parents, and thus him, were nothing like that. His parents went to school and helped others for a living, instead of just living off of the family money and unsavory practices of how they grew their fortunes.

Sometimes, Patton wished they could move away.

But that would mean leaving Virgil, and he definitely didn’t want to do that.

The librarians were two kind old men, Soulmates who liked both Patton and Virgil because they were quiet and respected the books. They allowed them to eat at a table towards the rear of the library as long as they cleaned up when they were done.

Patton watched Virgil pick at the turkey and cheese sandwich, hunched on his chair even more than he usually did. Finally, he couldn’t hold the question in any longer. “Did Martin hurt you?” he asked softly. “Do you need to go see the nurse?”

Virgil shook his head as he took a small bite of an apple slice. “‘m fine, Patton.”

“But you’re not!” Patton whispered. “You’re hurt! Do your parents know? If I had known earlier I would have asked my dad to – ”

Virgil winced. “Don’t, please. Just… drop it, ok?”

Patton didn’t want to. God, he didn’t want to. But the pleading and fear in his friend’s eyes… there was something more going on, he could tell. Something far scarier than schoolyard bullies. So instead he nodded. “Ok, Verge.”

History was uneventful, and thankfully Mr. Henderson was out sick, and the substitute didn’t ask Virgil to stay behind after class.

The rain was still pouring down when they got out. Patton had every intention of asking his parents to give Virgil a ride home, seeing as he had honestly never seen them come to pick him up, and Virgil was avoiding the bus like oatmeal raisin cookies, probably because some of Martin’s lackeys rode the same bus. When he turned to take Virgil’s hand, he was gone.

To Patton’s surprise, it was his mother who picked him up.

“Where’s dad?” he asked as he climbed in, slamming the door shut a little harder than he needed to.

“He got called in early.” She replied, frowning at her scowling son. “What’s the matter, Patton? Did the bullies bother you and Virgil again?”

“No, they left us alone today. It’s just… Virgil is _walking_ home in this storm! I was going to ask if we could give him a ride home, but he vanished right before you got here.” Patton explained. “We gave him a ride this morning, so he must live somewhat near us.”

“Daniel mentioned he got to meet him,” Martha said as she pulled away from the school. “I wish I could have met him, too. He said Virgil seems like a very nice young boy.”

It wasn’t all Daniel had told her; he had mentioned the stiff posture, the aversion to meeting someone’s gaze, and the quiet ‘Sir’ which seemed far more than just a nervous child meeting his friend’s parents for the first time.

Patton smiled. “He’s the bestest friend I could ever ask for.”

OoOoO

Virgil knew Patton was probably going to try and have his mom or dad give him a ride home, and that couldn’t happen. If his parents found out he had been given a ride, especially from an Elite… he would be in far more pain than he was now.

Turns out it was a moot point.

His mother was waiting for him when he slipped into the house, one hand clutching the strap of his bookbag. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and in one hand she held a leather belt with decorative metal studs.

“Where the _fuck_ had you been all day?!” she shouted. “I did _not_ give you permission to leave your cage, let alone the house!”

_Whack!_

Pain erupted on the side of Virgil’s face, blood drawing lines down his pale skin as he stumbled into the wall.

“I – I was… John told me – ”

_Whack!_

“Liar! He had no clue where you went off to! And what have I told you about using our names?!”

Virgil slid down the wall, bag on the floor next to him as he sobbed. “Sir! S-Sir let me out! He told me to go to school and to behave!”

“I did no such thing.”

John was lounging against the doorframe of the kitchen, a beer in his hand, the reek of alcohol telling Virgil this wasn’t his first beer or even his third.

Moira turned back to Virgil with satisfaction. “See? You’re nothing! A liar! Just a worthless waste of space! I should have drowned you the moment you were born! Did you think you could just sneak off to school, break the rules?!”

_Whack!_

“Stupid, disgusting, Soulless piece of shit!”

_Whack!_

“No one gives a shit about you!”

_Whack!_

“I should just sell you to the government! Or to the freaks who are into bitches like you!”

_Whack!_

_Whack!_

At some point, the belt was replaced with fists, with slaps, with kicks.

The last thing to cross Virgil’s mind before he passed out was _Please, let them kill me…_

OoOoO

Patton was excited to get up – not typical for most kids his age on a Saturday, but he and his mom were going to go surprise his father and take him out to breakfast, to do something as a family. Apparently, Martha had a surprise she wanted to share with them as well, and he was eager to know what it was.

When they entered the side entrance of this hospital, the nurse at the reception came around the desk. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” she motioned for them to follow. “Dr. Sanderson asked me to take you both to him as soon as you got here.”

“Is he ok?” Martha asked worriedly.

The nurse shook her head. “He’s fine. But there’s a patient…” she sighed. “It’s better if you see it for yourself.”

She led them to one of the private suites still in the treatment area – can’t have an Elite being treated in the same area as a Common, they might catch something – and opened the door, motioning them in.

Daniel was on a rolling chair in front of a skinny child as he cleaned a hole in the child’s bare arm, his purple shirt dotted with blood. Suture material was on a tray next to him. There were more bruises and contusions decorating the boy’s visible skin, some new and some partially healed and fading. The boy was obviously fighting a fight or flight response as Daniel spoke quietly to him.

“Virgil!” Patton left his mom’s side and dashed over to his friend, barely able to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around his friend. “What happened to you?!” the question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Virgil shook his head silently, tears in the corners of his eyes as he tried to hunch himself even further onto himself. Patton climbed up next to his friend and took his hand with one hand and wrapped his other arm carefully around Virgil’s waist; the quiet boy almost melted against his friend, silent sobs shaking his body.

Martha was staring at the scene in front of her, emotions torn between horror and rage.

Daniel got up to give Patton a chance to calm down his friend and came over to his wife. “It’s Virgil, Patton’s friend.” He murmured to her, eyes hard. “he stumbled in here like this, barefoot, about two hours ago, not really aware of where he was. When one of the nurses tried to help him to a seat he started screaming incoherently and tried to fight him off before falling to the ground. I was able to talk him into coming here where it was quiet with me since I met him yesterday.”

“What… what the hell happened to him?!” Martha demanded. “Who beat him up?”

“His parents.” Was Daniel’s growled reply. “They’re the ones who dumped him here.” He took out an evidence bag from his pocket and handed it to her. “This was _nailed_ to his arm when he came in.”

The handwriting was choppy and sloppy, but readable.

**_This worthless, disgusting piece of shit used to be called Virgil. It’s Soulless. We cannot stand its presence any longer in our lives._ **

**_Do with it as you please. Use it like Its teacher, make it a slave, kill it, whatever. We no longer want to deal with it, and do not care what happens to it._ **

Daniel had to remove the blood-stained letter from his wife’s hands before she crushed it. “How the hell was this allowed to happen?” she growled, eyes flashing as she watched Patton wipe a tear from Virgil’s cheek, holding him gingerly but firmly.

Daniel sighed. “Given his physical condition, if the police can find his parents they will be charged, but with the Safe Haven law here in Nebraska, it was perfectly legal for them to leave him here because they no longer want him.”

Martha was livid – no, she was well beyond that. How someone could do this to their own _child_ … it was obvious the abuse was far beyond what had left him with fresh wounds – even beyond this week, or even month. From the beginning, she had been worried about Patton’s friend who never brought lunch to school, who took weeks to even speak to her son, who was scared of her husband. “What will happen to him now?”

Daniel grimaced. “Typically, he’d be put into the system and then put in a home…”

“No!” she hissed. “I’ll make some calls! We’ll take him home!”

“I already have,” Daniel replied, smiling at his wife. “I pulled Rank as well as used his medical condition to reason that he would need continued monitoring. He’s ours to take home, and should we wish to, we can proceed with adoption paperwork.”

Her returning smile was teary. “Thank you, Daniel. Thank you! I know we don’t know the boy, but Patton adores his friend. And seeing him like this… we’ll also need to look into this teacher.”

Daniel nodded before approaching the boys. “Virgil? Do you mind if I clean your cuts? A few of them may need stitches.”

Virgil nodded silently, clutch Patton’s hand like a lifeline.

Patton looked – and felt like – he was going to vomit at the sight of his friend in such a state, and had overheard from his parents that it had been Virgil’s parents who had done this to him. He couldn’t wrap his head around a parent doing this to their child… but the evidence that it could and did happen was right next to him as his father gently took his time to clean the blood from Virgil’s arms, placing a few stitches in the nail wound and a few here and there in the lacerations, and placed butterfly bandages and surgical glue on the rest. Then he wrapped the quiet boy’s arms with soft white gauze.

“Virgil?” Daniel asked quietly. “I need you to be honest with me, do you understand?”

Virgil nodded, his eyes on Daniel’s knees.

“Where else are you hurt?”

Virgil shuddered, a panicked gasp shoving its way through his lips.

“Hey.” Patton squeezed his hand; he had seen Virgil have a panic attack before. The school nurse had explained how to work through them. “Breathe, V. Deep breaths. I’m right here, and my dad’s just trying to help you, I promise.”

Virgil met Patton’s eyes briefly. “…back.” He whispered finally.

Daniel nodded, having figured as much. “Patton, can you help him remove his shirt? I’ll get a gown for him to wear while I treat his back so he stays warm.” _And doesn’t feel so exposed_.

Patton gave Virgil’s hand a squeeze as he turned to face his friend, gingerly lifting the shirt, helping Virgil to slide his bandaged arms out the big sleeves and then over his head.

Daniel was barely able to hold back the curses he wanted to growl when he saw the disaster that was Virgil’s back; Martha had to leave the room.

Patton turned green but returned to holding Virgil’s hand, talking quietly to his friend, whose face was flushed with embarrassment and shame as his friend’s father started to address the wounds on his back.

OoOoO

Patton had never, ever seen his parents so angry. Not when he broke the antique teapot and lied about it, not when they fought (rarely) with each other, never, ever, ever. He never thought he himself could ever be so angry, either.

Or guilty. He had known something was wrong. He should have said something!

But Virgil had begged him not to.

It hadn’t been bullies who had hurt him. It had been his _parents!_

Patton grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears off his friend’s face, careful to avoid the cut on his eyebrow and cheek. “It’s ok, Verge.” He murmured. “We’ll get through this, got it? I’m not going anywhere. You’re my best friend!”

Virgil shook his head silently, unable to meet his friend’s eyes as he gently rubbed circles on the back of his hand. He did not understand why Patton and his parents were being so kind to him. Why weren’t they shunning him? Why weren’t they continuing what his parents had started?

Why hadn’t his parents just killed him?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's sooo short! But I wanted to post something!
> 
> Also, apologies in advance to anyone who lives in Nebraska; I'm not very nice in this one.
> 
> Trigger Warning: references to child abuse, physical abuse, pedophilia, panic attacks

Martha ran home to grab some of Patton’s outgrown clothing for Virgil that they had been taking to a local homeless shelter while Daniel finished caring for the quiet boy, and she didn’t even contemplate asking Patton to join her and remove him from his friend’s side. The child flinched at any sudden movement from her, Daniel, or the occasional hospital staff who entered the room, curling himself against Patton’s side, his head under her son’s chin, eyes wary even though they never left the floor.

His wounds, and scars… gods, she could never have imagined something so horrible, especially on such a young child.

Security cameras had shown them nothing of use. The car that had dropped Virgil off had been stolen – and returned to where it was stolen from – and both the driver and the person who shoved him out into the rain towards the main hospital entrance had worn hooded sweatshirts, but there was little doubt in anyone’s mind that it had been his parents.

The social worker who had shown up had not been happy that Daniel had pulled Rank to keep the quiet boy with them and out of a home, or worse; but there was very little she could do about it, other than having them sign a couple forms to take him over as their ward, and glare at the boy when she thought no one was looking, eyes filled with disgust.

Martha had almost struck the woman, and the only thing which held her back was that she didn’t want anything to be used against them taking fully over Virgil’s care, and a police report of an Elite attacking a Common, no matter if it was truly justified or not, wouldn’t do them any favors. The woman’s glares and looks could hardly be considered justified, so she settled for staring at the woman until she stuttered excuses and left the room.

Thankfully, at least for a family of their situation, all that was just about all the paperwork needed for an Elite to take in an abandoned child, regardless of their rank, especially when abuse was present. Add into that the _reason_ he had been abandoned?

No one would have ever adopted him, or fostered him for long.

No one, especially in this back-asswards state would want a Soulless in their house.

It helped smooth the way that by taking Virgil in they were saving the state a great deal of money in attempting to find housing for a supposedly Soulless child.

Martha believed her son when he told her Virgil had a Soulmate, but whether he was that shy, or his parents were part of the Free Soul Movement and didn’t allow him to respond. After seeing what her sister had done, and what had happened to her Soulmate when she was rejected, she desperately hoped they were just that shy. And even on the slightest off-chance that the quiet boy truly was Soulless, that was in no way, shape, or form his fault.

Daniel was just as upset, his jaw ticking as he clenched his jaw to keep from speaking, but his hands remained gentle and steady as they sewed up the wounds on Virgil’s arms and back, and then moved on to gentling feeling the purpled ribs, calling for a nurse to bring the portable radiograph machine to see if – how many – ribs were cracked or broken.

One was broken; four were cracked. And that was just the fresh ones, he would tell her later. Most of them had been at least cracked in one or more places in Virgil’s young life. Not to mention the rest of his bones, and body. Collecting evidence beyond what they had would wait until the child was calmer and not on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

After Daniel was finished caring for Virgil’s wounds, Patton helped Virgil into the soft long-sleeved shirt Martha had grabbed, being careful not to jar the wounds on his arms before helping him strip out of his dirty, torn-up pants to reveal more bruises, but thankfully nothing which needed stitches or to be bandaged and into a clean pair of jeans, and one of Patton’s other tennis shoes following a pair of clean socks.

Daniel pulled Martha out into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind them before whirling on his wife. “This is utterly disgusting!” he hissed, finally letting go of the rein he had been holding on his temper. “I have half a mind to track down his parents and deal out to them what I’m seeing on their son!”

Martha seized her husband’s hand before he could turn away from her. “I feel the same, Daniel, trust me. But if anything was seen or heard before or after the law catches up to them, we’d lose both Virgil as well as our own son.”

Daniel glared at her. “How the bloody hells can you be so calm?!”

“Because I’ve had enough time to vent and run through several scenarios while I ran home; you haven’t yet.” Martha retorted. “I’ve already made a few calls. Captain Dobbs told me she went straight to their home address, but it turns out officers were already there. Someone attempted to set it on fire, probably his parents, whose whereabouts are currently unknown; neither of them showed up for work. The heavy rainstorm didn’t let the fire get too out of control before one of their neighbors called 911 and the fire department was able to put it out. Once it’s safe to go inside and they can collect any evidence, she’ll call me back.”

“Good. That’s good.” He sighed and leaned against the wall, running his hands over his face, exhaustion finally showing through. “Let’s take the boys home, and rest. After I don’t feel like I’m about to pass out, we can all sit down and talk.” He caught his wife’s gaze. “I know you have something important to tell us; can it wait a little longer?”

Martha nodded, wrapping her arms around Daniel in a quick hug. “Of course. Go log out, and we can all go home.”

OoOoO

Patton didn’t know what to say to help reassure his best friend, who was almost comatose in his arms – after he had convinced his friend that yes, it was ok to lean back on the bed with him and no, he wouldn’t get into trouble for doing so – because he didn’t know if everything or anything would be ok or not. If Patton was being honest with himself, he was the most scared he had ever been in his life, not knowing what would happen to Virgil, especially given what his parents had done to him.

Would Virgil be returned to his parents?

Would he be given to another family? What if they were just like his parents? Or worse, what if they were like his parents _and_ were like Mr. Henderson?

Would the government take him away? His father had said that no longer happened, but what if he was wrong? What if he was taken away and experimented on?

Would he never see Virgil again?

All those thoughts made Patton tighten his arms around Virgil slightly, doing his best to reassure them both and not bump any of his wounds, not finding any words he could use.

The door opened to admit Patton’s mother; Virgil struggled to sit up. “Shh, shh, V it’s ok. I told you it was ok to lay back, remember? We won’t get into trouble, I promise.”

Virgil stopped struggling, but his body remained stiff in Patton’s arms.

“Well, Daniel just has to sign out of his shift, and then we can all be off.” She informed them.

Patton didn’t move. “What will happen to Virgil?” he demanded.

Martha smiled. “Virgil is coming home with us; Daniel and I have been made his legal guardians. As soon as we can arrange it, unless Virgil wishes it otherwise, we will adopt him.”

What?! Really?” Patton exclaimed. “That’s awesome! It’s perfect!” It was far, far better than anything he had been hoping for.

Virgil, however, didn’t share his friend’s enthusiasm and stopped breathing, swearing he had just misheard the Elite woman as fear, unease, disbelief, and shock fought inside of him.

In the end, fear and panic won.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks, reference to child abuse and pedophilia.

Virgil didn’t want to wake up. Waking up meant more beatings, more yelling, no food, no water, another day being beaten and hated, another day of endless chores or being locked inside the dog crate in the basement.

Another day of being ignored by his Soulmate.

Another day of being worthless.

But…

Why was what he was laying on so soft, so warm?

A bed… why was he on a bed?!

_Shit!!_

Virgil gasped and set up, looking around wildly, afraid he had fallen asleep while cleaning.

_If ~~Mother~~ Ma’am and ~~John~~ Sir find me napping…_

But he wasn’t at home.

He was in a comfortably-sized room with pale blue walls, though most of the paint was covered up by posters of puppies, kittens, and Disney films. The floor was a darker blue carpet that looked just about brand new, and the bed he was in had green sheets and a heavy comforter with cartoon animals on it. There were bookshelves loaded with books, comics, and toys on the far wall and a dresser. A desk was under the far window, books open on its surface.

“Hey, V, it’s ok. You’re in my room.”

Virgil hadn’t even realized Patton had been beside him, reading a comic book. He set it aside and turned so he could face Virgil.

“You passed out at the hospital,” Patton said softly, worry clouding his eyes. “so dad decided to bring you home with us instead of leaving you there where you were somewhere unfamiliar.” He reached out his hand and hovered over Virgil’s hand still gripping the blanket until the dark-haired boy nodded permission. Picking up the other boy’s hand, Patton continued, “What do you remember, before you passed out? Take your time, Verge.”

Virgil closed his eyes, free hand wrapping around his chest, slouching so he was folded in on himself. “Ma’am and Sir left me at… a hospital.” He whispered. “Didn’t want me anymore. Everything hurt… it was so loud and bring inside… people were trying to touch me, shouting…” he trailed off for a moment. “Your dad… he took me somewhere quiet. I think he was talking to me but everything was still so loud I couldn’t tell what he was saying.”

“Sounds like a bad panic attack,” Patton commented, running his thumb on the back of Virgil’s hand. _Along with everything your stupid parents did to you!_ Was added silently. “I’m glad it was my dad who found you.”

“Yeah.” Virgil nodded. “And then you and your mom showed up. You sat with me while…” he couldn’t put _while your dad sewed me up_ into verbal words.

Patton realized this. “So my dad got you fixed up, and my mom drove home to get you some clean clothes. What then?”

“We were…resting… while your parents left the room for a little while. And then they came back.”

_Had he really heard what he thought he had heard? He was in Patton’s room, on Patton’s bed, and under his covers…_

Was that allowed?

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to continue, instead bringing his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead on his knees, other hand knotted in his messy hair. “I don’t remember anything else,” he lied, muttering into the comforter.

“My parents told us they were taking us home, that they had been made your legal guardians,” Patton told Virgil softly, adding a gentle squeeze of their clasped hands. At least Virgil was talking to him – this was probably the most they had ever spoken verbally, if he was being honest with himself – as he continued, “And that unless you prefer it otherwise, they would like to adopt you, which would be awesome because then we’d be brothers!”

Virgil stopped breathing. So he had heard right.

“Virgil, breathe. Don’t pass out on me again.” Patton said, attempting to joke.

Turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

“Sorry Sir.” Virgil whispered, his body automatically going rigid. _You did something wrong you were a burden you messed up you fucked up you were a problem you were –_

“Hey, hey.” Patton got onto his knees and wrapped his free arm around Virgil’s shoulders, moving slowly so if Virgil wanted to let him know he didn’t want to be touched he could do so. But when Virgil remained still, Patton embraced his friend, pausing briefly to get him to release his hold on his hair. “It’s just me, Patton. V, listen to me, please. You’re not a burden.”

_Had be said that out loud? Crap…_

“ – and you’re not a problem. What you heard my parents say was yet another shock for you to deal with after a very rough week – it’s no wonder you passed out. We’re not mad, Virgil. Not me, and not my parents. They’re in the medical profession, they understand these sort of things. And they truly want to adopt you, I promise.”

“I… I-I just… why?” Virgil didn’t understand.

Patton cocked his head. “Why do they understand, or why are they choosing to adopt you?”

Virgil starting shaking, trying and failing to get his breathing under control. “Th-the latter.”

Patton gently rested his cheek on the top of Virgil’s head. “Because we’re friends, and they like you. Because they’re nice people, and they’re very upset about what happened to you.”

“No one’s ever cared before.” Virgil muttered, though he leaned against Patton’s embrace. “No one cares about a Soulless.”

“Don’t talk like that about yourself! You’re not Soulless, both you and I know it.” The sandy-haired boy admonished, though he kept his tone soft. “You and I both saw that blue ink on your hands last month. I think they’re just shy.”

It was that simple statement, that Patton truly had seen the ink on Virgil’s hand, had seen that it was blue – Virgil had never said what color it was – that Patton hadn’t just been pretending, that his friend was acknowledging that Virgil _wasn’t_ a Soulless… it conflicted with everything he had ever been told by his own parents, by the doctors they took him to, teachers, students, perfect strangers…

The dam broke.

Patton pulled his sobbing friend and future brother into his arms, wrapping his arms around the skinny boy’s body as tightly as he dared given all of the injuries but still wanting to bring some form of comfort, to let him know that he wasn’t alone, that someone loved him, and was never going to let him go, hate him, give up on him.  Tears soaked through Patton’s shirt, and Patton could feel his own tears on his cheeks. He utterly _hated_ Virgil’s parents for what they did to him, but Virgil was safe now, safe with Patton, and his parents.

All of the other children out there, who had shy Soulmates, ones who were part of the Free Soul Movement, and the ones who were Soulless…

All of those children, and how many more were like Virgil? How many didn’t have understanding parents like Patton did, and were willing to take in just about a perfect stranger’s child, whom they only knew about because their son was friends with him, who without getting to know him were willing to open up their home and family and take him in?

How many children were abused like Virgil, or were kicked out onto the street, abandoned and hated?

And no one did _anything_ about it.

It was in that moment that Patton knew what he wanted to do when he grew up.

Outside, the sky mourned with them.

OoOoO

Patton held Virgil until he cried himself out, sniffling more than he was crying, and the wet spot on his shoulder stopped growing.

“Sorry…” Virgil murmured, embarrassment crawling up his spine as he shifted a little in Patton’s arms, rubbing the cuff of the sweatshirt he was wearing on the wet spot of Patton’s shirt. “But… thank you.”

Patton smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Virgil. What are friends for?” he winced at his own words. “Stick around me long enough and you’ll see!”

Virgil let out a wet chuckle; he appreciated Patton’s attempt to get him to smile. “If you say so.”

“I do!” Patton beamed, sitting up and helping Virgil do the same; Virgil couldn’t bite back the wince as some of his stitches tugged uncomfortably; Patton noticed. “Let’s go downstairs; I think my mom is cooking dinner, and my dad brought some pain medicine home for you to take.” He bounced to the side of the bed and held out his hand. “C’mon.”

The dark-haired boy flushed. “I-I don’t need any medicine. It’s expensive. I’ve been ok before without it.”

The last thing he wanted to be was any sort of burden to the adults who had said they were going to take him in; they might change their minds.

Patton waved his hand. “Don’t be silly, not all medicine is expensive. Besides, my dad works there, so I’m sure he gets a discount or something, and…” he trailed off, unsure of his to put the rest of his sentence. “Besides, with your injuries, you need medicine even if you’ve been ‘fine’ before. Please,” he added. “for me?”

After a moment Virgil nodded wordlessly even though he wanted to argue further with his friend – he wasn’t worth wasting the medicine on – and took Patton’s hand.

The two boys found Patton’s parents talking quietly in the kitchen, Mrs. Sanderson was stirring something which smelled amazing on the stove and Mr. Sanderson was washing a few dishes; they fell silent when the boys reached the edge of the room.

“Hello, boys.” Mrs. Sanderson smiled at them over her shoulder. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

Virgil froze at the doorway, causing Patton to be jerked backwards by their joined hands; Patton stopped and gently tugged on their joined hands. “It’s ok, Verge. You’re allowed in here.”

“Can you two set the table, please?” Mr. Sanderson asked as he started to dry the dishes. “I’ll finish these up.”

Patton, having succeeded in tugging Virgil into the room, nodded. He pointed to a cabinet. “Plates are in there, and silverware is in the drawer below it. “I’ll grab glasses and condiments.”

Glad to have an order to follow – something he was used to doing – Virgil jumped into action, carefully grabbing three plates and setting them on the table on the edge of the kitchen. Silverware followed, set alongside the plates so similarly one would think he used a ruler, adding in the glasses Patton had already brought over. He wanted everything to be perfect, he wanted to show he was useful, obedient, and quiet, that he didn’t take up much room, that he didn’t require a lot of food to keep and didn’t cause trouble.

“Virgil?” Patton had come over with some sliced bread, butter, and a spare knife. He was frowning at the three place settings. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Virgil shrunk his shoulders in on himself and backed up against the nearest wall, heart hammering in his chest and roaring in his ears.

Was this a trick question?

_It would be the first time or even the hundredth it’d happened…_

What had he done wrong? He done as he had been asked, set the table…

“Virgil.” Mr. Sanderson had come over and knelt so he was at eye level, though he stayed further away than Patton was. “In this house, you will be eating with us; you will _never_ be denied food, clothing, medicine, or personal hygiene. You will never be struck or locked in a cage.”

Patton whipped around, mouth open in shock; Virgil saw Mr. Sanderson shake his head out of the corner of his eye.

He continued, “You will have three full meals a day. You will have your own room, and your own clothes and shoes. You can have books, toys, games. You will be treated as our own son.”

Virgil heard him, barely, over the roaring in his ears. He didn’t realize when his legs gave out until Patton was suddenly at his side to catch him and ease him to the ground. Patton took one of Virgil’s hands and placed on his chest, doing the breathing exercise the school nurse had shown them in an attempt to get Virgil to copy him.

Pin-pricks of pain moved their way across Virgil’s scalp, and faintly he realized he had a fistful of his own hair, and that Patton was attempting to get him to let go. He did so, slowly, his eyes squeezed shut in shame as his tears started to leak out of them.

Now they would never want him.

Who would want someone like him beyond someone to clean and throw around?

Why was he saying all that about family?

_What if he’s telling the truth?_

**No. He can’t be.**

_But it would be so nice…_

Yes, it would be nice. It would be _amazing_ …

Perhaps it was a bribe? Behave, do as you are told, and you’ll get food, clothes, and books? It wasn’t like it would be the first time Virgil had been bribed.

_“Clean the bathrooms and do the laundry and you can have something to eat.”_

Ma’am and Sir.

 _“Do my homework and **maybe**_ _I won’t beat you up tomorrow!”_

Any number of school bullies.

_“Come sit on my lap, son. Let’s figure out how you can get your grade in my class up.”_

Mr. Henderson.

Virgil shuddered, his body spasming.

“Virgil, it’s ok.” Patton was talking. “You’re safe, you’re with me. I will never let anything or anyone hurt you ever again. You’re going to be my little brother, and I will protect you.”

Virgil leaned into Patton’s embrace, trying to get his behavior under control. “’m sorry…” he murmured, his voice thick. “Sir, Ma’am.” He added quickly.

“Virgil dear, please call us by our names, or aunt and uncle. We… we don’t stand on such formalities as ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’ here.” Mrs. Sanderson said; when Virgil managed to look up enough to see them out of the corner of his eyes he could see she was standing behind her husband, her hand firmly on his shoulder as if holding him back.

Back from what?

Virgil risked a glance up at Mr. Sanderson’s face, and was surprised to see a tear on the man’s cheek.

Had… had he made the man who had just finished saying they were going to take him in and treat him like his own, cry?!

_That couldn’t be good…_

Patton must have noticed his breath hitching, because he squeezed his hand. “V, it’s ok. You’re not in trouble.”

“W-what… what will be…” Virgil swallowed hard. _He had to know._ “What do I need to do?”

“Do?” Patton asked.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Sir and Ma’am had me do chores.” He explained, eyes on the tile floor. “Mr. Henderson…” he hesitated; he didn’t want to give Mr. Sanderson ideas, or to even admit to anything that had happened in the history teacher’s office.

“Mr. Henderson? He’s the history teacher at the school, isn’t he?” asked Mr. Sanderson, voice sharp.

Wordlessly, Virgil nodded into Patton’s shoulder who at some point had moved to sit against the wall with him, arms wrapped tightly around him.

“No. Nothing of the sort.” Mr. Sanderson said angrily. “There have been murmurs about that… man. I will have his job for this.”

Virgil flinched. “I… I don’t want to cause trouble.” He pleaded, ashamed of himself. “Please…”

“You are not the first child he has hurt, Virgil.” Mrs. Sanderson told him gently. “But you will be the last.”

Wait.

Wasn’t he in trouble for telling on an adult? They weren’t mad, or going to be like the teacher?

“Virgil, can we come closer?” Mr. Sanderson asked, his voice once again quiet and gentle.

After a moment, Virgil chanced a look up at the two adults. Mrs. – no. Aunt Martha was smiling softly down at him when she saw he was looking. And… and Uncle Daniel still looked sad, but the look in his eyes matched the look Patton had given him the first time they worked through one of the smaller boy’s anxiety attacks alone.

Uncle Daniel had cared for his wounds and given him a ride to school. He had an easy smile that reached his eyes and had helped Virgil just as Patton did.

Aunt Martha had given Patton food to bring him – not leftovers, scraps, or half-rotten food, but the exact same thing. She had gone and gotten him clean clothes, clothes that didn’t have rips and holes in them.

They both said that wanted him… as their son, their son right alongside Patton.

Anyone who raised such a nice boy as Patton… they couldn’t be that bad, could they? Better than the adults he had been living with, at the very least. And Patton, sweet, kind Patton, his first friend promised him it would be ok.

He nodded.

Uncle Daniel moved to Patton’s other side, and Aunt Martha seated herself next to Virgil and offered him her hand. He took it hesitantly. Her hand was soft, and warm. She held his hand gently; Virgil couldn’t remember the last time Ma’am had done something like this for him, if she ever had. “We always regretted not having a second child, but between both of our jobs and my medical condition it never happened.” Aunt Martha told him quietly. “But now, now I think the Universe brought us together.”

“And we fit together like a jigsaw puzzle!” Patton said, chiming in. "Like peanut butter and jam!"

Virgil couldn’t help it; he snorted. “You and your weird associations.”

Patton beamed. “That’s me!”

Something on the stove started to bubble over.

“Oh, crap!” Aunt Martha jumped to her feet and turned the burner off. She grabbed a wooden spoon and poked at the contents of the pan. “Well, the noodles are done. Who’s ready for dinner? Virgil, I hope you like beef stroganoff.”

Virgil let Patton help him to his feet. “I – I don’t know what it is,” he admitted. “It smells wonderful, though.” Which it did.

“Ohh, mum makes the most wonderful stroganoff!” Patton exclaimed as he got out another place setting after forcing Virgil into a seat at the table. “It’s a seasoned creamy sauce with mushrooms and beef in it!”

Turned out, Virgil _loved_ beef stroganoff. There was also a fresh fruit salad, the bread made by a local baker, and cold milk. And the medicines, of course, as promised. An antibiotic and a pain medication that Virgil didn't dare argue about taking.

Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten at a table outside of school, let alone a home-cooked meal.

After dinner Aunt Martha waved her hand when Uncle Daniel moved to clear the table. “Wait just a moment, dear. I think it’s time we talk about the Thing.”

Virgil suppressed a flinch, though barely. He doubted she was talking about him, but…

“I’ve been offered a job in another state to be a full-time, at-home caregiver for a Noble’s wheelchair-bound child.” She told them. “It pays triple what I’m making at _all_ of my present jobs, and they are a family I respect. They also are more than willing to find a spot for you at their childen's hospital, Daniel.” She told her husband.

Daniel’s eyes were wide. “A _Noble_  Family scouted you? They don’t normally leave their Rank except for servants… who is it?”

“It’s the Salazar Family.” She replied, rendering Daniel speechless.

Virgil and Patton shared their own shocked look; the Salazars were a legendary Family with the Rank of Noble. They ran three children’s hospitals full of specialists, and the lower a person’s income, the less they had to pay (if at all) regardless of their Rank.  

Aunt Martha continued, “They have a guest house about the size of this one on the property, very close to the main mansion which will comfortably hold all four of us. All they asked is that we learn American Sign Language, because their child’s Soulmate is mute.”

Virgil couldn’t believe his ears. _All four of us…_

“You mean, Virgil can come with us, right?” Patton asked as if he had just read his best friend’s mind.

Aunt Martha nodded, smiling at them both. “Yes.” She turned to her husband. “We’ve been talking about moving for a long while, and then this happened.” she said. “I know we have to talk more about this later, but I wanted to at least share the news with all of us.”

Uncle Daniel still seemed to be in shock as he shook his head. “What is there to talk about? Let’s do this!”

Patton jumped in his chair excitedly, looking over at Virgil. “We’re going to have such a wonderful adventure!”

“That we will.” Aunt Martha agreed. “Well, now that that’s settled, why don’t we all get the kitchen cleaned up and then we can have our first lesson in ASL?”

OoOoO

“Logan, _come on!_ I want to try out for the play!”

Roman was jumping up and down, waving his arms wildly so Logan would see him – like the loud, red sweatshirt wasn’t enough to be obvious and allow him to be found even in a sea of fellow students, most of which were heading out to the buses – and hurry up.

Logan sighed, pulling the cuffs of his black button-down shirt down so it covered his wrists and shouldered his backpack. “I do not understand why you require my presence, Roman.” He commented when he caught up with the loud boy. “You know I do not like all of that pretentious make-believe as you do.”

“Awe, c’mon Logan, _pleaaaase?_ I want my favorite cousin there to cheer me on!” he yanked the sleeve of his sweatshirt up and jotted out quickly _off to try out for a play!_ on his arm for his Soulmate to read in red ink. “I hope I get to be Aladdin!”

Logan stifled the desire to sigh again, but followed his friend and cousin to the auditorium, taking a seat towards the rear and pulling out the reading assignment for his History class. But his brain refused to focus on what it was supposed to.

Instead, it went right to where he _didn’t_ want it to go.

His own Soulmate, V.

Logan could never allow himself to reply to their messages, questions, and pleas. He couldn’t let himself get attached to them, because getting attached meant falling in love – and he intended on never, ever falling in love; it was bad enough he cared for Roman.

He was five when his mom died a prolonged, painful death from cancer in the Elite ward of the state’s best hospital, barely able to recognize her husband and son at the end; his father, unable to bear the grief, left Logan with his late wife’s brother and their family before driving himself off a cliff.

 _That_ was what love did to you; it destroyed you. It tore you up until your very soul was a mess of shreds and memories and a never-ending ache for the person lost to you. Logan never wanted to go through what his father did, watching the love of his life slowly drift away in a haze of pain and narcotics, helpless to do anything to save her or make her more comfortable, watching her as she died in his arms. It was the only real memories he had of his mother and father, just the hospitals… and the funerals.

No. Logan didn’t need or want his Soulmate. He was _not_ going to end up like his parents.

He would live a life of solitude and teaching, and that would be that. That would be enough for him.

Logan told everyone that his Soulmate had rejected him when they found out he was a boy. Between the Free Soul Movements and the fact that some people were homophobic even when the Universe itself said ‘this is the right person for you’, everyone accepted his lie as the truth.

He looked up when he heard Roman’s raised voice; he appeared to be alternating between arguing and begging with the drama teacher. If Logan had to guess, someone else had been selected to play the role of Aladdin.

He attempted to turn his attention back to his book, and failed.

Even after all the time of ignoring his Soulmate, V still wrote him at least once a week, even if it was just a hello, or a doodle. Sometimes Logan was so, so tempted to write back, to give some sort of acknowledgment to his Soulmate, but every time he came close he thought of his parents, and he put his pen away. The closest he had come was two months ago, and that had been an accident. He had rushed to the bathroom and washed the ink off of his hand, praying his Soulmate hadn’t seen it.

It had been ten days since the last time he got any sort of message from V, and he was a little – maybe more than a little? _~~NO~~_ – worried about them.

 _No!_ Logan scowled down at his textbook. _They finally got the hint and are leaving me alone! It’s about time! I am not worried in the least!_

Perhaps is he thought it enough, if he chanted it like a mantra, if he engraved it into his very soul, then he would believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> There, Logan and Roman have been introduced!
> 
> Salazar is an actual client's last name at the animal hospital where I work, and given that the family is a Noble, I wanted something unique.
> 
> Also, where should I have them move? Wisconsin, where I have college experience, or FL to stay where Thomas is? I'm undecided.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Panic/Anxiety attacks, references to physical abuse, starving, verbal abuse.

 

That night after changing into one of Patton’s many sets of spare pajamas Virgil fell asleep in Patton’s bed, despite Aunt Martha having made up the guest room for him. It was not that he was ungrateful of her efforts, or it wasn’t a nice room or bed. He and Patton had been reading Marvel comics together – he loved the Hulk, bulletproof and able to beat up anyone he wanted – when at some point the two of them had fallen asleep. When they woke up Sunday morning to a sleeting sky Patton’s first reaction was to burrow back under the covers and drag Virgil with him.

Virgil’s reaction was to get up because he had overslept and there were chores to do until Patton informed him that the chores had yet to be redistributed. “W-what about chores?”

“Mom and dad haven’t talked about it yet, I’ll bet.” Said Patton between yawns. “ ‘sides, it’s mainly loading the dishwasher, doing the leftover dishes – except for the knives, one of them always do those – keeping our rooms picked up, staying on top of our schoolwork, and helping with the dusting and vacuuming when they ask.”

Virgil wasn’t convinced. “But… you’re their son. Shouldn’t… shouldn’t I be up and at least making sure there is coffee or tea ready for them? What about laundry?” He could feel his heart rate picking up, and the roaring in his ears was a low but growing hum. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms underneath his knees, ignoring the tugging pain of the stitches on his arms and back.

Patton pushed himself upright in the bed and looped an arm carefully around Virgil's shoulders and leaned their sides together. “Virgil, I promise. Neither of us will get into trouble for not getting up before our parents and doing chores.” He didn’t even seem to notice his use of ‘our’ in place of ‘my’.

Virgil did, but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to argue with Patton, and if he was being honest with himself, all of the talking yesterday had exhausted him; he usually didn’t talk that much in a week, let alone a single day.

Not to mention the past few days as a whole had been completely exhausting.

Patton gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, pulling Virgil out of his thoughts. “Would it make you feel better if we went downstairs and sat at the table, or in the living room? We have the science quiz to do, and I at least still need to write that book report for English.”

Virgil nodded wordlessly.

“Alrighty then, let’s go!” Patton grinned at him, bouncing out of bed. “Here!” he threw a pair of purple fuzzy socks at Virgil. “So your feet don’t get cold. Do you need a sweatshirt, too?”

Virgil hesitated for a moment before nodding as he slipped the socks on.

Patton dragged his sock-clad (blue, what else) feet on the carpet, causing static sparks on his way over to his closet. Throwing open the door Patton didn’t see the brief look of shock on Virgil’s face that someone his age had that many clothes just for themselves before he forced his face back normal.

“Ah hah!”

Patton emerged with a dark gray fleece pullover. “It’s not the prettiest sweatshirt, but it is _reaaally_ toasty warm!” he slid his way over to Virgil, a maroon one in his other hand that he yanked on over his head after Virgil took the gray one. “Our school bags should still be in the laundry room.”

The sweatshirt was indeed warm, and the fuzziness of the fleece was comforting, even if the sweatshirt was rather large on his thinner body. Between it and the socks, Virgil was actually warm as the two of them tiptoed down the stairs to the main level.

As it so happened, Aunt Martha and Uncle Daniel were both already awake.

“Good morning boys.” Uncle Daniel greeted from the stove where he had bacon sizzling in one pan and blueberry pancakes cooking in another. “Hope you’re both hungry.”

Virgil hesitated briefly again at the doorway, eyes flickering from each adult to the floor. The next moment Patton was at his side, linking their arms and tugging him silently into the kitchen.

Martha and Daniel exchanged a silent glance before Martha said, “Are you boys hungry? You aren’t coming down with something, are you? I heard a few of your classmates have colds.”

Virgil stayed silent until Patton gently nudged him. “V? Aren’t you hungry?”

“I…” Virgil’s voice was raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m… no. Last night was more –” he stopped himself, unable to ignore Ma’am screaming at him in his mind to not reveal anything about how they dealt with him at home. “I’m not hungry. Thank you, though.”

His stomach chose that particular moment to betray him and let it be known it was actually very hungry.

Patton giggled. “I think your stomach disagrees, Verge.” He tugged at their joined hands. “Let’s at least have some cereal, hmm?”

It took some more convincing, but finally, Patton had Virgil in one of the kitchen chairs next to him, since Martha already had plates stacked next to the stove where Daniel was cooking. She poured each boy a glass of milk while her husband started dishing up the finished pancakes. He paused, turning to Virgil. “You don’t have any food allergies, do you?”

Virgil shook his head. “Not that I know of, Sir.” He told the table; next to him, Patton was frowning.

Over their heads, Martha and Daniel shared a look before the man continued, “Well good then! I take it you both want bacon?”

Once everyone had a full plate and was seated, all the extras were placed in the center of the table within easy reach. Virgil did his best to not wolf down the _two_ pancakes and _three_ pieces of bacon he had been given, not to mention the glass of milk. Two whole meals within twenty-four hours? Is that what it felt like to be a Real person?

“Boys, I’m sorry if you already made plans for today, but I’m afraid we have some errands to run, and someone to meet.” Said Martha as breakfast started to wind down.

“We hadn’t yet, besides schoolwork.” Replied Patton. “What do we need to go do?”

Martha took a sip of her coffee. “Well, I think it would be best if Virgil had some clothes and belongings of his own. After that, we have been asked to have a late lunch with the Salazar family, and meet their daughter and her soulmate; give the four of you time to get to know each other.”

The pancakes and bacon now felt like lead spiders in Virgil’s stomach, heavy and trying to crawl their way up his throat at the mention of ‘clothes’ and ‘belongings’. He hadn’t been with them a full twenty-four hours and he was already being a burden, making them spend money on him…

“Virgil?”

At some point Patton had left his seat and was standing next to Virgil, his hands hovering over his friend’s shoulders. “May I touch you?” When Virgil nodded Patton held his friends’ shoulders. “My parents make more than enough money to go out and buy all four of us loads of new clothes and shoes and books and stuff and not even blink. So, breathe, ok?”

Virgil wanted to, to make his friend happy. But… he couldn’t. “I don’t… I’m not…” He sighed shakily, unsure of how to put what he was feeling and thinking into words.

Starting to be used to this, Patton gave his friend a small smile. “Take your time and hunt down that right word, ok?” He glanced at his parents to see what their reaction was of his friend’s inability to be articulate as they had taught – were teaching – him to be. He had glossed over his friends ‘troubles’ a few times with them, but this was their first time – other than last night, since the hospital didn’t count – of seeing Virgil starting to panic and be unable to talk. However, the small voice in the back of his head that had been slightly worried about them not reacting as he expected was wrong. Dad was standing behind mom, hands on her shoulders, watching them silently; his mom nodded in encouragement.

“I don’t… want to be a… problem.” Virgil finally murmured quietly, eyes screwed shut. “I want to… stay… if I can. But… I don’t want to be… a… problem.” It wasn’t the best way to word how he was feeling, but it was close enough.

“You are about the furthest thing there is from being a problem!” said Patton firmly. “While I don’t mind sharing my closet with you, I don’t think we have the same type of style.”

Virgil giggled a little in spite of himself, causing Patton to grin widely and pump his fist in the air. “Yes! I finally got you to laugh! Well, almost, but I’ll take it!”

OoOoO

Shopping was… difficult, to say the least. Virgil’s eyes kept being drawn to the price tags; one of the sweatshirts he liked was more than Ma’am would spend on him at a dollar store in a year. But when Ma’ – Aunt Martha saw him looking at it, she came over, found his size, and added it to their cart.

It was followed by jeans both blue and black, some nice dress pants, several shirts, a few hoodies, some pajamas, underwear, and three beanies she had also caught him eyeing.

Patton shared the large dressing room with him, helping him in and out of some of the clothes so he didn’t pull any of his stitches. Virgil could tell his friend wanted to say something – the bruises were much darker today than they were the previous day – but was surprisingly holding his tongue – that, or he was mad at him.

“Mom!” Patton called when the third pair of pants didn’t want to stay up around Virgil’s waist where they belonged. “Virgil’s gonna need a belt or two!”

Martha replied, “I’ll go find a few for him to try; you two stay in there with the door locked and do not come out until I return!”

Virgil shrugged himself into the dark blue zip-up sweatshirt with a storm cloud and lightning on the back, trying to ignore the burning shame that was crawling up his neck. “…sorry.” He murmured, pulling the sleeves down over his hands. “I… don’t mean to be…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Patton stopped him before he could speak further. “Whatever bad stuff you’re thinking, you’re not!” He took both of Virgil’s cloth-covered hands in his own. “You’re my brother, and no one is allowed to be mean to my brother!” he said with a smile.

“Here, try these!” Martha hung two different belts over the changing room door.

For a moment, the off-white changing room door was changed into cement block, the lights dimmed, and the temperature dropped. He backed away from the belts and Patton until his knees hit the seat and he fell on top of it.

Martha knocked on the door. “Everything ok in there?”

Patton hadn’t moved from his spot near the door. “I think Virgil’s having another panic attack,” he told her softly. He caught Virgil’s gaze. “Virgil? I’m going to let mom in, ok?” he unlatched the door.

Martha joined the boys, locking the door behind her. “To give us privacy,” she told them, eyes flickering from Virgil to the belts still hanging over the door. She knelt where she was, pulling the belts down and tossing them behind her. “Virgil? Can you hear me?”

Virgil, eyes transfixed on the worn carpet floor, nodded jerkily.

Patton walked over and sat on the floor next to his friend. “You were ok until the belts were hung over the door,” he commented. “Was it that?”

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t even move to nod or shake his head.

“Patton, dear, if Virgil will let you, take his hand.” Martha directed softly. “Virgil, Patton’s going to take your hand, if that’s ok. If it isn’t, don’t let him slide his fingers into your hand.”

Virgil allowed it, finding comfort in the touch of the first person to be kind to him, clutching it as a lifeline.

“Good job, Virgil,” Martha said, smiling encouragingly. “Now, if I ask you a few questions, can you squeeze Patton’s hand once for yes and twice for no?”

Virgil squeezed Patton’s hand once.

“Yes, mom.” Said Patton, smiling gently up at his friend.

“May I sit on the floor near you like Patton is?”

Yes. Squeeze.

She came over and sat cross-legged opposite of Patton on the ground, but not as close. “Was it the belts looking as if they were hanging on a wall?”

Squeeze.

“Is that what your parents did to you?”

Yes. No. Both. Only one.

Virgil hesitated.

“One parent?”

Squeeze.

“Your mother?”

Squeeze.

Martha held herself back from asking more questions; there would be time enough to delve into what her new son had suffered, and more time to plan Revenge on the bitch and bastard who had thankfully delivered the boy to where her husband worked. She took a breath. “Virgil, I know it will take time, but I want you to know that none of us, not Patton, not Daniel, not myself, will ever strike you with anything, belt, hand, or anything else.”

Squeeze.

“I think…. I know.” He managed to rasp out, wanting to give a better explanation than he was afraid; being afraid was embarrassing as it was crippling. “But…” how to say it? He chewed on his lip, and after several long moments realized he had exhaled but hadn’t inhaled again.

“Take a minute, Virgil. Find the words you need. And remember, breathe.” Patton said when his friend fell silent.

Martha smiled; she really needed to thank the school nurse who had prepped her son on how to help his best friend on how to deal with the anxiety and panic attacks.

“It… I just… reacted.”

Martha nodded, understanding. “You’ve been conditioned to expect something when you saw a belt hanging or in someone’s hand.”

“Conditioned?” Patton asked, puzzled.

Martha thought about it for a moment. “If you do or do not do an action or see something, you expect a certain reaction or outcome. Such as, if you lose a tooth and put the tooth under your pillow, you expect to find a quarter the next morning, don’t you? Or if you see a flash of lightning you expect a boom of thunder. Conditioning can be a good thing or a bad thing.”

Both boys nodded in understanding; Patton got up and sat down next to Virgil on the bench, looping an arm around the slighter boy’s shoulders. “If anyone ever tries to hurt you again, you just tell me and I’ll set them straight!”

Virgil chuckled wetly. “Sure thing, bean-pole.”

“Like you have room to talk! Stick!”

OoOoO

It took four, _four_ , trips to and from the car for the three of them to carry their purchases into the house, mainly clothes and shoes for Virgil. Clothing stayed in the laundry room, save one smaller bag which was what he had picked out to wear when they went to meet the Noble family Martha would be working for, and most likely Daniel, too. Shoes, beanies, and odds and ends also went up to the guest room Virgil would be using before they moved, directly across the hall from Patton’s.

Virgil stared at himself in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door, more out of shock than anything. He had argued that he should wear a suit and tie, meeting a Noble family, but Martha said he and Patton would be mainly interacting with their younger daughter, who was wheelchair bound due to spinal Bifida and the same age as the two of them, and her soulmate, who was a year older.

“Be yourself, Virgil dear.” Martha had said while they had been waiting in line at the checkout of the last store. “Wear what is you.”

So there he stood, in black jeans, a navy t-shirt and the dark blue storm cloud hoodie, and almost matching blue beanie over his messy hair (Ma’am had taken the dull kitchen scissors to it three weeks ago). The bruises were still evident on his face. And neck. At least everything else was covered by his clothes (his own brand-new nice clothes!) so that was something.

There was a knock at the door. “Virgil? It’s Patton. Can I come in?”

Virgil opened the door a little hesitantly, unsure and uneasy in his new clothes.

Patton, however, loved the outfit; he himself was in a clean pair of jeans and a button-down dark red sweater. “You look awesome, V! I love that sweatshirt!” Then he caught on to Virgil’s less-than-enthusiastic – not that was ever nearly as exuberant as Patton – attitude. “Verge? What’s the matter?”

Virgil shrugged, turning back to the mirror. “Look funny,” he said quietly. “And the bruises…”

Patton came level with Virgil. “Well, if she or her parents are mean to you, tell her or them that it’s not their business. Or I can yell at them. Whichever.” He nudged Virgil’s shoulder gently. “But c’mon. Mom said it’s time to go.”

Martha was waiting in the kitchen for them, dressed in a pretty wraparound purple shirt and flowing black skirt. Her jewelry was also impressive. She smiled at them as the walked in. “Ready, boys?”

It took them nearly an hour to drive to a nearby city and make their way through the horrible downtown traffic to the hugest and fanciest-looking hotel. A person called a ‘valet’ dressed in a dark green jacket and black pants took their car at the door, handing Martha a ticket with a white-gloved hand. Two more in the same outfit opened the glass doors with shiny brass handles. The floor inside was highly polished stone, and their footsteps echoed as they walked in.

“Virgil, look!” Patton nudged his brother, pointing to the ceiling and a glittering chandelier. “It’s bigger than our whole living room!”

If not bigger. Both boys paused in their strides to stare at it, leaving Martha walking on without them.

Someone nearby tutted. “Bringing in a bruised child _here_? Really. What is this country coming to? Who on Earth – ” on and on they went. “ – should call and complain – ”

Virgil hunched in on himself, hands tucked into the sleeves of his sweatshirt and those into the front pockets. Patton linked their arms and glared in the direction of the speaker until Martha returned for them a moment later, putting herself between the boys and the speaker.

“Come, sons. I know the chandelier is impressive,” she said more loudly than she needed to, “but let us not keep the _Salazar_ _Family_ waiting.”

The speaker went silent. Then more whispers erupted, too hushed to make out as they walked up to the concierge’s desk. Three women – two in dark green dresses, one in the same pants and suit as the ‘valets’ outside looked up when they approached. Martha said, “My name is Martha Sanderson. I am here to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Salazar. They are expecting me and my sons.”

  The blonde woman in the pants and suit behind the desk whose nametag informed them her name was Rose didn’t even look at her computer. “Yes,” she stepped around the desk. “Please, follow me. They are up in their suite.”

She left them off to an alcove where there were seven different elevators, heading for the last one on the left. It took a swipe of a keycard clipped to her waistband for the doors to open, and another swipe to close the doors and send the elevator upwards.

Everything was stone and metal and glass and so clean and _shiny_. A very far cry from what either boy was used to, even the Elite boy.

The doors opened into a hallway with a window on the right side looking out at the Hotel’s enclosed gardens. At the far end of the hall was a door.

“Just knock, they’re here,” Rose told Martha. “And…” she hesitated. “Please give them my best wishes for their younger child. Little Talyn is always such a dear.”

Martha smiled at the woman. “I will extend your words to them. Thank you.” She tried to tip the woman, holding out a twenty.

Rose shook her head. “Oh, no. No tip for a friend of the Salazar family. They do such wonderful work.” She looked at the boys. “Please, use the money and visit our ice cream parlor when you’re finished with your meeting, buy your boys something for me.”

“I will,” Martha promised. “I’m sure they’ll love that. What do you say, boys?”

“Thank you!” Patton said, doing his best to stop from bouncing on his heels.

Faced with a stranger, after the whirlwind of a day he had already had, left Virgil speechless.

Rose didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, she knelt down on one knee in front of him and started making movements with her hands, as if she expected him to understand.

“Oh!” Martha stepped forwards. “Virgil is quite shy, but we appreciate the effort. We will be learning how to sign soon, though.”

Rose smiled in understanding. “Ah, yes. Talyn’s soulmate, Joan. The Salazar family request me a lot because I know how to sign since I was a child; my older brother is deaf. You will have great friends in the pair of them, and they with you, I think.” She looked at Martha. “Have a wonderful rest of your day, ma’am.”

Martha waited until Rose was back on the elevator. “Well, shall we?” she motioned to the door.

When the boys both nodded – their arms once again linked – she knocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as When Shadows Fall is starting to wind down, I hope to be updating this fic a lot more! Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter is already started!
> 
> AND YES I KNOW I am misgendering Talyn and probably Joan, too; that is on purpose. They/them will start with the next chapter, after Virgil and Patton make friends with them. Full-on they/them will be in the next time jump (high school). You will notice that Rose is already using gender-neutrals, as she is friends already with the two children.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: mention of past abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should be only another chapter or two and then there'll be a time jump! Or should I just skip ahead to high school?

 

It was only a few moments before someone unlocked the door; they could hear the soft clicking of heels on carpet. A woman seemingly close in age to Martha was the one to let them in, a kind smile on her face, and brown hair reaching her shoulders. She was wearing black pants and a grey jacket over a navy silk shirt.

“You must be Mrs. Sanderson!” she said, holding out her hand. “Lord and Lady Salazar had spoken a great deal about you. My name is Karisa Stokes. I am Lady Salazar’s assistant, and I also help run one of their Children’s Hospitals. My child is their child Talyn’s soulmate. And one of these fine young men must be your son!”

Martha shook her hand warmly. “Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Stokes. Please, call me Martha, though.” She motioned to Patton and Virgil. “These are my sons, Patton and Virgil.”

“Then you must call me Karisa,” she said before cocking her head. “It was my understanding you had only one child; I must have misunderstood. Please forgive me.”

“Virgil is my brother now.” Said Patton firmly before his mother could say anything. “His parents were mean and didn’t deserve him, so he’s ours now.” He gave Virgil a gentle hug around the shoulders, doing his best to avoid where he knew there were stitches.

Something angry flashed in Karisa’s eyes. “Then I’m glad Virgil has found a much better family.” She motioned down the hall. “Shall we?”

Martha gave Patton a proud look before following Karisa down the hall. Virgil and Patton could not help but stare as the followed the two women. There were fresh flowers _everywhere_ , the floor was a darker marble than the downstairs, though a long carpet covered the center of the hallway’s floor. Tiny – comparably – crystal chandeliers lit the way down the hall. A glimpse into one room that they passed showed a full-on gourmet kitchen with a cook working on what was probably dinner. Another room appeared to be an office or meeting room.

They took the next left, entering a room with two adults sitting on black leather couches, a glass table with even more flowers was between them, as well as books and mugs of coffee, talking quietly between themselves. They fell silent as the four of them entered.

“Lady Salazar, Lord Salazar, Mrs. Sanderson and her sons are here,” Karisa said with a nod of her head.

“Ah, thank you, Karisa dear.” The woman who had to be Lady Salazar got to her feet, as did her husband and they came around to greet them.

Martha stepped forwards and actually curtsied; after a shared look, Patton and Virgil attempted to bow, but the fact their arms were still linked made it look clumsy and silly, especially when Patton almost made Virgil topple over, causing the adults to chuckle.

“Please, we do not stand on such formalities,” Lord Salazar said, a relaxed, cheerful smile on his face. “You will find working for us we don’t stand for most of the whole Noble nonsense in private.” He held out a hand for Martha to shake. “We are most grateful you responded to our request so quickly for our daught – child,” he corrected himself with a shake of the head.

“Talyn has requested that we use gender-neutral pronouns, not feminine.” Lady Salazar explained, coming to stand next to her husband. “It’s taking some getting used to, but I feel it is making h – them – happy, and that is what matters. While we are doctors, we are still learning about their being gender-neutral.” She turned her attention to Virgil and Patton. “This must be Patton and his friend Virgil, who is now your son as well?”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to look up; he could feel all three of the new adults studying him, observing the bruises and scrapes on his exposed skin. His heart was pounding in his ears, and it was getting a little hard to breathe normally. At some point, his eyes closed.

Patton noticed. He leaned his head against Virgil’s and tugged them even closer together, taking deep breaths in, holding them, and letting them out, his other hand rubbing circles on the arm he was still looped through. “Breathe, V.” he murmured. “Just breathe.”

Virgil focused on their joined arms, on the feeling of Patton’s moving hand, tuning out the dimming sound of the adults talking and their fading footsteps.

It was still all way, way too much.

Friday night, he had been being beaten until he was unconscious.

Sometime Saturday morning he was dumped outside of a hospital. He didn’t even really remember getting inside of the building let alone how he got to be outside of said building. And then someone tried to touch him and there were loads of people around him, the lights were bright and the smell of chemicals and –

– and then Patton’s father Daniel had been there, making everyone back off and give him space. He hadn’t even touched him without asking. Instead, he asked if they could go somewhere quiet and that he was a doctor, and he wanted to make sure his son’s best friend was ok.

The rest of that morning was a messy haze of pain and panic as Daniel had gently talked him through getting him cleaned up and caring for his various wounds. Every moment, he was prepared for things to flip, for Daniel to become impatient, or enraged, or physical.

Every moment, he was prepared for Ma’am and Sir to show up, blame him for getting hurt, and drag him away.

Every moment, he was prepared for Daniel to morph into Mr. Henderson.

But none of that ever happened.

And then Patton and his mother had shown up. Patton hadn’t laughed or made fun of him. Instead, he climbed up onto the bed next to him and gave him a gentle hug, and he didn’t let go; Virgil didn’t want him to.

He hadn’t ever really realized that people could touch each other without hurting or wanting something he didn’t understand.

Patton’s touches were kind, and comforting, and protective.

But he knew it all had to end.

All they had to do was call the school, and they’d have Ma’am and Sir’s address, and Their numbers. They would call Them, and then They would come for him, or police would take him home, and then…

He didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

Or what if They never come for him. What would happen to him then? Would he be sold? Taken by the government? Sir and Ma’am always said that they should sell him…

But neither of those scenarios ever happened.

Instead, Martha and Daniel explained that they would like to take him home with them and Patton, that they wanted him to become a part of their family.

They took him home, fed him, gave him a room and a bed, let him wear Patton’s clothes, and then fed him again and went out and bought him loads of new clothes and shoes, and said they were going to buy him books and toys and anything else he wanted.

He still wasn’t sure about the whole thing – what did they want from him, what was he supposed to do, when would he know?

But one thing was for sure: he would do anything, _anything_ , to stay with Patton, his first friend, the first person to care.

Finally, Virgil opened his eyes.

The adults were nowhere in sight, but it sounded like they were still close by. Instead, there were two children who looked close to their age playing cards in silence. One who had to be Talyn was in their wheelchair, and their soulmate Joan was on one of the vacated couches. Talyn’s hair was dyed teal, which suited them nicely. They were wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt.

Patton came around to stand in front of Virgil. “Are you ok now?” he asked softly.

Virgil nodded silently.

“Mom went into the office with Lord and Lady Salazar. Shall we go and say hello Miss Salazar and her Mate?”

Virgil nodded again.

Patton and Virgil walked over to the two children, waiting until they looked up at them. “Hi,” Patton greeted, “I’m Patton, and this is my brother Virgil. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Salazar, Mister Stokes.”

“I’m Talyn Salazar,” Talyn said. “And this is my soulmate Joan Stokes. We both prefer they/them pronouns. Joan is unable to speak, but they can hear. They Sign to communicate. I’m obviously stuck in a wheelchair. Got a problem with any of that?” Their eyes were flashing, obviously waiting for either boy to laugh or make fun of them.

Virgil shook his head while Patton said, “None of it is a problem. Neither of us is a bully. Rather the opposite, actually.”

“You’re a white, Elite male with a soulmate.” Talyn retorted. “What do _you_ know about being bullied?”

Patton took a step forward. “I get bullied at school because I’m friends with Virgil. While that wasn’t as bad as him or either of you, I do know how much it sucks, Miss Salazar.”

“What does your being friends with him have to do with anything?” asked Talyn, one eyebrow quirked. “He’s your brother.”

Virgil shook his head, finally looking up at the two. “We’re… not really brothers, Miss,” he said, voice rasping, and trying to ignore the horrified look the two Mated gave him when they got a full look at the bruises at his face. “I’m Common and was rejected by my Mate but everyone thinks I’m Soulless, and Patton is my friend despite all of that. When he stands up for me, they try and hurt him, too.”

Joan poked Talyn’s arm and started Signing something; Talyn replied in kind.

Patton nudged his shoulder. “You didn’t need to do that,” he told him. “I would have found a way to tell them.”

Virgil shrugged. “I didn’t want them thinking bad of you,” he explained.

Joan slammed their palms against their knees and huffed, drawing the two boys’ attention. They then pointed to Talyn, and then Patton and Virgil, their eyebrows high on their forehead.

Talyn sighed. “Sorry,” they said. “I’m used to being teased and bullied about my crutches, and then my wheelchair. Add to that a mute Soulmate and my gender? I’ve found the best way to offset the bullies is to be mean first.” They held out their hand. “Friends?”

Patton shook their hand. “I can understand that,” he said. “Hopefully we’ll all be present any time someone thinks they can bully either of you, ‘cause I won’t put up with it!”

Talyn rolled their eyes. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t!” Patton hurried to say. “Just… can’t have too many people backing you, yeah?”

Talyn nodded, conceding his point. “Guess so,” they said. Then they turned to Virgil. “Your Soulmate sucks, by the way. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I didn’t have Joan. And please, if we’re going to become friends, drop the Miss and Mister.”

Virgil smiled a little and nodded, not trusting his voice. What was there to say, anyway? It’s ok?

Because it wasn’t.

I’m over them?

Because he wasn’t.

I’ve moved on?

Because he didn’t think he ever could, or would. If his _Soulmate_ didn’t want him, then who would?

Joan caught Talyn’s attention and Signed something, their eyes flickering to Virgil and back. Talyn’s head turned and they eyed Virgil, who shifted nervously.

“Joan says you don’t like to talk,” Talyn stated.

Virgil shrugged helplessly. How could he explain it when he didn’t really understand it himself?

“Virgil’s shy,” Patton said, offended. “And so what if he doesn’t like to talk?”

“Pat…” Virgil whispered. “Don’t.”

Patton turned to Virgil, mouth open to retort, but shut it when he caught sight of the pleading look in his friend/brother’s eyes. “Kind of like you didn’t talk to me for two months, huh?”

Virgil nodded silently.

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing you’ll both be learning how to Sign, yeah?” Talyn said with a smile. “Then you don’t need to speak out loud unless you want to!”

Huh.

Now _that_ was a great idea.

Virgil nodded and smiled. “Yes.”

Talyn motioned the two boys over. “Let’s start with the alphabet, and number one through ten. It’s silly, but we can play go fish and you can Sign the number or letter, and the letter of the suit.”

It wasn’t all that silly, and it helped. The numbers were easy enough, and after repeating A through Z over and over and then Talyn randomly pointing at them and demanding they show them a certain letter throughout the games they played also kept them fresh in their head.

As time wore on, however, Patton became more and more antsy, shifting in his seat and rubbing at his arms. When Virgil cocked an eyebrow at him, Patton merely grinned and demanded to be shown what the letter ‘B’ was.

“Um, Patton?” Talyn said in the middle of their eighth game. “I think your Soulmate is trying to get your attention.”

Across the backs of both of Patton’s hands in big red letters was ‘Patton answer me!’.

“Roman,” Patton grimaced. “I… haven’t spoken to him since sometime yesterday morning. With everything that’s been going on I just didn’t have time.”

Virgil flushed. “Sorry, Patton…” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to keep you from your Mate.”

“No, no, you didn’t!” Patton hurriedly assured him, resting an arm on his shoulder. “You needed me and he’ll just have to understand that.” He made a face as an all capital letters PATTON! showed up beneath the first. “I’d… better go and let him know I’m ok.”

“There are pens in the desk over there,” Talyn pointed across the room. “Help yourself.”

OoOoO

Roman could _not_ take it, not another second! He had been writing to his Patton for the past day and a half and had yet to get a single reply – not even a ‘good morning’, ‘good night’, or even a smiley face to let him know everything was ok! Even when Patton had been _sick_ he had at least done _that_.

“Maybe he’s sick and in the hospital,” suggested Logan as he looked up from his book, watching Roman pace back and forth in the living room. “Your pacing and freaking out is not going to make him reply any faster, nor is it helpful. And it is aggravating to me.”

“Like you care!” Roman retorted, spinning on his heel to face his cousin. “You don’t care about your Soulmate - _rejected_ them, in fact – how would you even begin to understand how much I love and care about mine?!”

Logan returned his gaze to his book and didn’t reply; he didn’t trust himself to do so. Roman’s words hurt, despite his daily vow to not become his parents.

Roman sighed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s just… so not like Patton. I’m – oh! He writing back! Finally!” he rolled his sleeves up. “I’m so gonna yell at…”

**Roman, sorry. Something happened, and I had to be there for him.**

Roman frowned down at the tiny blue print on his arm. Who? What happened?

**My friend, Virgil, mentioned him before. Parents beat him and dumped him, luckily where dad works. He’s living with us now, but he’s still hurt really bad, Roman. Bruises and cuts, they hit him with a belt! They hardly ever fed him! He’s so skinny! He won’t say how long they did this to him, but it’s been awhile.**

Roman swore, grateful his parents weren’t home. “Damn it! Patton’s friend at school was beaten and abandoned! By his own parents! How can they do that?”

“Are they tracking down the parents?” Logan asked without looking up.

“I’m asking that now,” Roman replied, writing hurriedly and small.

That’s awful! Have the caught his parents? Is he ok??

**Trying. But we in Nebraska. It’s legal here to abandon children under 18.**

Roman’s vulgar exclamation to _that_ made Logan look up. “What now?” he asked, frowning at Roman.

“Apparently it’s perfectly legal in their state for parents to abandon children under eighteen years old!”

“Ah.” Logan pushed his glasses back into place. “They must be in Nebraska.” He hesitated. “Is his friend ok?”

He didn’t know why he cared. Yes, it was horrible, but it sounded like the situation was already resolved. He knew Roman’s Soulmate’s parents were in the medical field, so surely they could take care of this friend…so why was he this concerned about some boy he didn’t know? Was it because of the potential of meeting him down the road? He knew at some point Roman and Patton would meet, which meant he would meet Patton, and by extension this friend?

Roman was shaking. “I don’t know,” he said, teeth clenched. “Patton says Virgil’s parents beat him, starved him, and belted him, and this happened a lot, apparently, before they abandoned him.”

Logan winced. “That was… highly cruel of them.” And that was putting it mildly. Whipping? With a belt? Who even did whipping anymore?!

Roman fell silent, writing back and forth with Patton. They stopped occasionally to wipe away their arms clean again before returning to talking.

**Sorry I didn’t take the time to write to you at all. He’s so scared right now.**

Roman sighed, unable to suppress the jealousy towards Patton’s friend Virgil, who was able to be there with him. But at the same time, he knew his jealousy was pointless; he knew Patton loved him. He had talked about Virgil a little before, how he was bullied at school, how Patton would bring food for him because Virgil’s parents never sent him to school with lunch. How he would show up the next day at school with more bruises than he had had the day before.

It’s ok, I get it. What happened to him sucks, but at least he has you, your parents, and of course his Soulmate.

There was a brief hesitation before Patton replied. **Yes.**

That was rather short.

Why do I feel like you’re not telling me something?

Again, there was hesitation. And then…

**Virgil’s Soulmate… I think their parents are in the Free Soul Movement. We’ve only seen ink on his skin once, and that was wiped away very quickly. They never reply when Virgil writes to them.**

Or they were like Logan, and rejected Virgil, Roman thought with a growl, ignoring when Logan looked over at him – he was still furious with his cousin for telling his Soulmate he didn’t want them – and went back to talking to Patton. That’s horrible! I’m glad he had you, at least. Hopefully he’ll eventually find someone to love him like he Soulmate was supposed to.

**I do, too. But I don’t know if he will even try. He’s so shy, and with what his parents did to him… I’m scared for him, Roman.**

Roman couldn’t stand knowing his Patton was scared, and he couldn’t stand the thought of someone so important to his Mate being hurt.

Then he can live with us!

Patton’s reply was written so fast and sloppily it took Roman a moment to understand it.

**Thank you thank you thank you!! That would be so awesome. I wanted to ask you that, but I didn’t know how you’d react, or if you would even think about it.**

He’s important to you, Roman wrote in reply. so he’s important to me. No one should ever, ever be alone. He stole a glance at Logan. We’re not supposed to be; it’s why the universe gives us Soulmates.

Maybe once they all met, and Logan saw how much Virgil’s Soulmate’s rejection was hurting him, it’d change his mind and he would reach out to his own. One could only hope, right?

Turning the conversation towards something more cheerful, Roman wrote, I wish I could meet you! I don’t get why our parents want us to wait until we finish high school and start college! My cousin says it’s to focus on schoolwork, but if we knew each other and didn’t have to write back and forth, I think we’d get more studying done!

**I agree! Perhaps in a few years we can call each other at least! I want to be able to hear your voice!**

They had already discussed this – and discussed doing it without their parents' permission – but had decided against it. Well, Patton had, and had convinced Roman to do the same. It was how both of their parents had met, waiting until college. And if they wanted them to do the same then they could wait.

What are you up to?

**Mom is meeting with a Noble family who would like her to be their child’s private nurse. They’d hire dad to work in one of their hospitals.**

Roman whistled; his family was also Elite like Patton’s – his father had been Common, his mother Elite – and being hired to work privately for a Noble family? Very uncommon.

That’s awesome! What is he or she like?

**They. They aren’t a boy or a girl, I guess. I don’t get it yet. Their Soulmate is the same. They both seem nice enough after I explain I wasn’t going to bully them for being in a wheelchair. I think they’re around our age, and their Soulmate is a year or two older.**

Roman scrunched his face in confusion. “Hey, Logan? Have you heard of people who aren’t a boy or girl?”

“You mean gender-neutral?” Logan turned a page in his book. “Yes. Why?”

“Oh. Well, Patton’s mom has been hired to be a private nurse for a Noble family, and the kid is gender-neutral. Was just curious.”

Roman went back to ignoring Logan, writing something on his arm.

Logan couldn’t help but touch the sleeve of his shirt briefly. It had been days since V had written anything to him, not even a hello or a doodled flower. No purple ink had been anywhere on his skin.

Perhaps they had finally gotten the hint, since despite his lie to even Roman, he had never told his Mate he didn’t want them. As much as he refused to become his parents, a small part of him still yearned to get to know his Soulmate. But every day, the rest of him won out, and he ignored them.

It was better this way, for both of them.

Right?

OoOoO

Talyn kept sneaking looks at Virgil as the three of them continued playing, watching the boy’s bruised face almost completely shut down when Patton left to write to his Soulmate.

“It’s not fair what your Mate did to you, you know.” They told him. “I hope one day they get what they deserve for rejecting you.”

Virgil shrugged helplessly. “Maybe they know I’m not worth it,” he said quietly so Patton wouldn’t hear. “Maybe they’re Elite or Noble, and don’t want a disgusting _Common_ as their Mate.”

Before Talyn could reply, Joan started Signing at him. They paused and glanced at Talyn, motioning with one hand.

“You are more than worth it,” Talyn translated. “They obviously don’t know that. I agree with Talyn: I hope one day, they pay for doing this to you.”

Virgil didn’t know what to say. This had to all be a dream. Never, ever had he thought that outside of his dreams he’d have a real bed to sleep in, nice clothes, and food in his stomach. But never had he dreamed he’d have people who cared and took him in as family, let alone a freaking _Noble_ and their Mate getting mad on his behalf? Saying that they were friends?

Was this all a trick?

Was this a new way of bullying?

His thoughts may as well have appeared in a bubble over his head because Talyn moved their chair over in front of him.

“Virgil, please look at me.” They said softly.

It took Virgil a few moments, but finally, he looked up and met their pale eyes. They smiled sadly. “I don’t know what you’ve been going through, but obviously it was horrible. We will not be like that to you, I promise.” They held out their hand. “We are not bullies, we are not mean to others unless they deserve it. I think we will become all good friends, and I don’t let people hurt my friends.” They glanced over at Joan, who pointed at themself, nodded, holding a fist with the thumb up, supported by their other hand resting against their chest and then moved both hands towards Talyn and Virgil.

“Joan says they’ll help, too. You aren’t alone anymore. You have Patton and his parents, and you have us, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: bullying, panic attacks, mentions/references to pedophilia and child abuse.

 

That night back at the Sanderson residence, Virgil couldn’t eat.

It was Sunday night. Tomorrow was _school._

His first day back since his parents had beaten and dumped him and the Sanderson’s had taken him in. His bruises were as prominent as ever, and all of his stitched wounds and scrapes were itchy, though he did his best not to at them, especially after Daniel asked – _asked,_ not ordered or yelled – for him not to, explaining it could prolong the healing.

There was no way at least one of the Elite – or Common – bullies had not heard of what had happened to him, and the rest would know soon enough; rumors, even in their school with children their age still spread like wildfire. They would be on him the moment he was alone, if not turning on Patton as well just for being his friend.

The bullies, he supposed, he could deal with if he had to. It was not like they ever did or said anything that Ma’am and Sir hadn’t done to him worse. But tomorrow… tomorrow was Mr. Henderson’s class, and right after that was a recess. Mr. Henderson had kept him on his lap through recess before, to ‘help’ him with his schoolwork…

“Virgil, hon, are you feeling alright?” Martha asked, her brow creased in worry as she watched her new son taking as small bites of his dinner as he could and chase the rest of it around the plate.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving his plate.

Patton saw his mom’s lips purse. “V?” he asked. “Are you nervous about school tomorrow?”

Virgil set his fork down, giving up on eating completely. Ramrod straight in his chair, he nodded, sneaking a glance at his friend. “Math,” he murmured.

Understanding dawned in Patton’s eyes. “Mr. Henderson,” he explained to his – their? – parents. “He teaches math. He’s really weird around Virgil and some of the other Common kids.”

“Weird how?” Daniel asked sternly. “Virgil?”

“Keeps me after class,” replied Virgil. “Says he wants to help me with the lessons since I have trouble with them sometimes.”

“How is that weird?”

“…he makes me sit in his lap, with an arm around my stomach.” Virgil swallowed. “And his lap feels funny.”

Both adults had gone very still. “Funny?” Martha asked, her voice strained.

“Bumpy, like he has rocks in his pockets. But when I asked him about it, he just laughed and said he’d show me later, that maybe he let me touch it. That maybe it would help me do better and earn better grades in his class.”

Daniel got up so abruptly he knocked his chair over before he stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Patton appeared as if by magic next to Virgil, who had forgotten to breathe. “Mom?” Patton whispered, his eyes wide as he circled his arms around Virgil’s shaking shoulders. “Is dad ok?”

Martha pushed her plate away from herself, looking as if she might be sick. “Dad will be ok, boys,” she told them, getting on her knees next to Patton so she could look at Virgil. She held out a hand to the shy boy. “He’s not mad at you, Virgil, I promise.”

“I’m not supposed to tell,” Virgil whispered, eyes wide. “Mr. Henderson said so, because then the other kids would be mad that I was getting help and they’re not.”

Martha shook her head. “Virgil… it’s one thing for a teacher to help you… but what Mr. Henderson did, having you sit in his lap and… everything… isn’t good. Not at all, do you understand? If _any_ teacher ever does that to you or even tries you tell me or Daniel right away.” She put her free hand on Patton’s shoulder. “Same with you, Patton. What Mr. Henderson is doing is not right.”

Patton nodded. “He always made me feel…” he searched for the right word, face scrunched. “Not scared, but… icky. Like carrots, lots of really bad carrots.”

Martha smiled at Patton’s reference – even as a baby, he had made such a fuss when they tried to feed him carrots – and said, “I think… I am going to pull the both of you out of school tomorrow.” She seemed to warm to her idea. “We will go and retrieve any belongings you have in your lockers, and that will be the end of that. I’ll find someone to stay here with you while dad and I are both at work.”

Well, far from the end, actually, but the boys didn’t have to know what she and Daniel would do to this Mr. Henderson. He could be a damn Noble for all she cared. Doing this and probably worse to children…

Nothing would save him.

Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Well, if you boys are finished, why don’t you go upstairs and see what you can learn from the book Talyn gave you? We will be moving up there in only a few weeks.”

Patton nodded. “V?” he asked quietly. “You ok?” Stupid question, he thought as soon as he said it, but he just tightened his arms a little around his brother’s shoulders to let him know he knew things really _weren’t_ ok, but he was there for him nonetheless.

Wordlessly, Virgil got up and let Patton link their arms and tug him upstairs to their rooms.

As soon as they were out of sight, the smile blinked off Martha’s face. She went in search of her husband, finding him around the back side of the garage, a lit cigarette in hand. He looked up as she approached, and grimaced.

“I know you hate it when I do this,” he waved the cigarette. “but after that… it was either do this or go find that fucking son of a bitch and strangle him for what he’s done to Virgil and who knows how many Common children.”

He flicked the cigarette into a bucket of water and watched the tip fizzle out.

Martha leaned against the wall next to him. “I understand,” she said softly. “No matter what Rank he is, doing that to children – to anyone – is inexcusable. But if he’s anything but a Common… getting anything to stick is going to be hard. They’ll say the children are lying, that their parents are putting them up to this to try and get money out of an Elite.”

Daniel ran a hand over his face, pausing to rub at his unshaven chin. “I hate that you’re right,” he muttered. “Sometimes I wish there was no such thing as the Ranks. But if there wasn’t, who knows where Virgil would’ve ended up if we weren’t able to take him, and with whom. Perhaps another creature like his math teacher, his parents, or worse.”

“Ours is one of the more backward States,” said Martha in agreement. “Thankfully we’re moving soon. Wisconsin might not be one of the top ten for support of the Commons, but it’s better than here, and a load of the other States.” She stared up at the sky. “It’s one of the reasons why I wanted to jump on the offer from the Salazars. They don’t turn away anyone from their hospitals, even a Common in need of a specialist. There are way too few people and Families like that out there.”

Daniel turned to face Martha. “I spoke with Lord Salazar this morning while you took Virgil shopping. He offered me a couple of different positions. Emergency room, burn unit, children’s ward.” He paused. “I asked to stay with what I knew, in the Emergency Room.”

“You do enjoy the chaos, don’t you?” she asked with a smile, seeing through his manipulation of the conversation to get it away from the topic of their son’s math teacher before she – or he – went in search of him and did something that would get them into trouble.

Daniel shrugged, smiling. “You could say that. Being able to help someone, from a broken bone to the flu to a car crash… I enjoy it.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And what about you? What will you do once their daughter is older? Do you know yet?”

“Child,” Martha corrected. “Talyn has asked to be called by gender-neutral pronouns, like they and them, child, et cetera. Same with their Mate, Joan, who is a year older. To answer your question, I’ve already spoken to Lord and Lady Salazar about that. I’ll be in the pediatric cancer wing of their children’s hospital.”

“That’s awesome, sweetie!” Daniel embraced his wife for a moment. When he released her, he asked, “Gender-neutral child, huh?”

Martha mistook his comment. “If that’s how they identify, then that’s how they identify.” She said stiffly. “It’s no different in my opinion than someone who is transgender.”

Daniel held up a hand. “No, no, I was just surprised, that’s all. One of the surgeons at this hospital, Dr. Smith, is gender-neutral. Just… glad that a Noble Family is ok with allowing their child to present as such. Many I can think of are not nearly as lenient, what with their politics and power plays.”

“It _is_ the Salazar Family, dear.” Martha reminded him sardonically.

Daniel chuckled. “That is true.” He sighed. “Let’s go back inside. Where are the boys?” he asked as they started walking back to the house.

“I got a few more details out of them, and then excused them from the table, suggesting they go and practice their signing. I know Talyn gave them a book or two, and I think there was also a large deck of cards with different signs, too.”

Deciding the leftovers could sit out a few minutes more Daniel and Martha walked up the stairs quietly, following the giggling sounds of the two boys, who did indeed have the deck of cards out, and were attempting to play go fish with them, complete with signing ‘do you have’ before signing the sign they wanted, and ‘yes’ or ‘no, go fish’. It seemed Patton was losing because he signed something Martha would later look up to mean ‘you help me’, motioned vaguely to the sky, which sent Virgil into another giggling fit.

Seeing they were absorbed with their game and comfortable with each other the two adults descended the stairs.

“Bet you ten bucks they fall asleep in the same bed again tonight,” Daniel joked as he started filling the sink with hot, soapy water and cleaning the dishes off while Martha put away the leftovers.

“I’ll pass,” Martha said with a smile. “If it brings them comfort, especially Virgil, I don’t really care.” Then she remembered something. “Oh, Daniel? I’m going to pull both of them out of school, starting tomorrow. I’ll take them to school so they can retrieve their belongings out of their lockers, but that is it. Between the bullies and that despicable teacher, I don’t want them there, especially Virgil, in light of what’s happened to him this weekend. And we both know Patton won’t stand for anything to be done to Virgil.”

“I have no problem with that,” Daniel growled, remembering the boys’ comments about the math teacher, not to mention the permission the two of them had given to Patton to get involved with the school bullies should they go after Virgil again. “But who will stay with them when we’re both at work?”

Martha shrugged as she wiped the table down. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she admitted. “I could ask Clara and Thomas, the older couple down the road who are forever feeding Patton home-made cookies.”

Daniel chuckled. “Hey, to be fair, those are some amazing cookies. I’m sure they’d be happy to stay with them. If not, I can always ask Lisa.”

“Lisa? Isn’t she the nurse who’s on maternity leave?” asked Martha as she started drying the dishes Daniel and set in the drying rack.

“Yes, that’s her.” Daniel started scrubbing at the large pan from the noodles. “It’s not like Patton and Virgil would be much trouble for her, and they could even help her with the twins, who are hitting the mobile, terrible twos. From the stories she tells, they’re forever getting into anything and everything. Last week they apparently decorated her kitchen with flour and softened butter.”

Martha laughed. “At least Patton was never that bad!”

“No, he just trashed the newspapers and magazines in the living room,” Daniel retorted, rinsing the final pan of the sauce remnants. “ _Three_ times!”

“True, but it was still cute.” Martha reminded him, laughing at the memory.

In regards to the adult’s assumptions that Virgil would fall asleep on Patton’s bed, they were both right. Not two hours later when Daniel went to check on his two boys, he found Virgil curled on Patton’s mound of pillows, a throw from the foot of the bed draped over him by Patton. Patton was writing back and forth with Roman, pen in hand and pack of baby wipes on his nightstand to clean his arm with.

“He fell asleep about ten minutes ago,” Patton said quietly, looking up at his father. “I’m surprised he didn’t earlier.”

Daniel nodded. “This weekend sure has been very stressful for him, to say the least.” he acknowledged. “And on you, too. How are you holding up, Patton?”

Patton shrugged. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Daniel took a seat on the edge of the bed after moving a few of the sign cards out of the way. “You found out that we’re moving far away, for starters. But to find out that your best friend is being beaten and starved on a regular basis by his own parents, and that they then abandoned him? That isn’t upsetting you?”

“It makes me really mad if that’s what you mean.” Replied Patton, scowling at his arm, though he wasn’t writing anything. “Mad at them for being so… so _mean_ to him; I don’t care about moving since Virgil is coming with us.” He paused. “I knew something was wrong when I saw he wasn’t eating lunch at school. It’s why I asked mom to pack me more, so I could share with him. After that, I started watching him more. He barely talked, and sometimes he moved like he was in pain, which he probably was.”

“Yes, he probably was.” Daniel agreed, remembering only a few days ago when the two of them had given Virgil a ride in the rain. “But he’s with us now, right?”

Patton brightened considerably. “Right! And we’ll be the bestest to him, right, dad?”

Daniel nodded. “That we will. Now, how about we get all of this cleaned up, and you can write a little more to Roman. How is he, by the way?”

Patton set the pen aside and started gathering the cards up, trying not to disturb the bed and risk waking Virgil. “He’s ok,” he said. “I told him what happened to Virgil, and he’s really mad and worried.” Patton paused.

“Patton?” asked Daniel. “What is it?”

Patton looked up at his dad. “Roman said that Virgil can live with us when we grow up so he’s not alone.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, that’s very kind of him.” And surprising, he added silently. Most people wouldn’t be nearly so kind.

“Yeah, Roman is awesome,” Patton said with a grin as he slid the gathered cards back into their pack and set it and the two books on his desk. “But maybe… maybe we can find someone for Virgil, who will see how nice he is, and love him for that, and be really nice to him. Someone who’ll understand. Do you think he can find someone like that?”

Daniel wasn’t sure how to answer that question without upsetting his son. “I think that, outside of his Soulmate, perhaps Virgil can find someone to love him the way his Mate was supposed to, yes.”

Patton nodded decisively. “Good. Because if anyone deserves to find love, it’s him.”

OoOoO

Once again Virgil experienced a few brief moments of panic when he woke up in a bed and under the covers until he remembered he wasn’t at Ma’am and Sir’s home but in Patton’s, and that he was in Patton’s room and bed.

Patton was still sound asleep next to him, an arm flung around Virgil’s waist, clinging to him as a little kid did to their favorite blanket or stuffed animal. He relaxed against the pillows, not wanting to wake up his friend.

_Friend._ Virgil still couldn’t believe he not only had a friend, but he also had adults who – so far – hadn’t hit him, or yelled at him, or locked him in a dog crate or a linin closet. He had never, to his recollection, ever had a friend before. He was finding he really enjoyed it, the easy giggles, the hugs, the understanding of his panic attacks. Even the adults didn’t get mad at him when they happened. Yesterday Ma’ – Martha – had helped him through one when the belts reminded him of being in Ma’am and Sir’s basement.

He pushed that thought away; he did _not_ want panic attack right now (not that he ever wanted those stupid things) but here in Patton’s arms, he was able to force himself to stay calm. Here, he was starting to see that people could touch each other without either pain or whatever Ma’am and Sir did that was so noisy. It was so nice to be touched without pain, comforting and gentle.

Was this what it was like to have someone who loved him?

Virgil had just started to drift off when someone knocked softly at the closed bedroom door and opened it.

“Patton? Virgil? Time to get up.” Martha said, peering in at the two boys. She smiled when she saw Patton was still sound asleep.

“I think he was up late talking to Roman,” Virgil told her, hoping she wouldn’t be too mad at her son for not already being awake.

Martha chuckled, coming over to Patton’s side of the bed. “He probably was.” She shook his shoulder. “Pat, time to get up. We need to fetch your school things before I need to be to work at nine.”

“’m wake,” Patton muttered, face pressed into his pillow.

“Sure you are,” Martha told him, shaking his shoulder again. “Come on, I’m not leaving until you’re completely out of bed.”

“Mmhmm…”

Martha winked at Virgil. “Either you get up now, or I start sharing embarrassing stories of little Patton with Virgil.” She paused, waiting to see if Patton would call her bluff. When he stayed unmoving she continued, “So, Virgil, there was this one time that little, three-year-old Patton collected all of these earthworms – ”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Patton forced himself upright.

Virgil covered his smile with a hand. “Tell me you didn’t eat the worms,” he said.

Patton facepalmed. “I was _three_ , alright? And I had just watched the Lion King.”

Virgil cocked his head to the side. “Lion King?”

“You – you don’t know what Lion King is?!” Patton looked gobsmacked.

“No?” Virgil shrugged. “I am supposed to?”

Patton had been about to say something but Martha put a hand on his shoulder. “Well then, in between studying ASL, perhaps you can introduce Virgil to some Disney movies.”

Patton nodded vigorously as he climbed out of bed and headed over to his dresser. “You bet I’m going to!”

After a quick bathroom stop, Virgil returned to his own room to get dressed in jeans and a green sweatshirt, donning a black beanie before snagging a pair of socks and heading downstairs. Patton was already at the table, pouring himself a bowl of honey-O’s cereal. There were two other boxes of cereal on the table, but Virgil had never tried any of them. Deciding to just copy Patton, Virgil poured himself a bowl – less than what had seen Patton take – and added a little milk, as he had seen Patton do.

“Here’s some fruit, too.” Martha set a Tupperware container of grapes between them. “Eat all you want. I’m going to go finish getting ready.”

The honey-o’s were pretty good, Virgil decided. Not nearly as sweet as he had been expecting – he knew Patton loved anything sugary – and the grapes weren’t tart (or half-rotten, like he was used to being given when confined in the dog crate), so that was a definite plus.

Patton, despite his sudden ability to leap out of bed, still seemed to be somewhat out of it, so Virgil didn’t talk to him – not that he felt up to it; his insides were trying to tie themselves into knots, and his nerves were burning with fear of going to school even if it was just to get his few books and notebooks out of his locker. But despite his nervousness Virgil forced himself to eat all of his cereal and drink the leftover milk in the bowl, as well as eat a few grapes, the whole ‘eat as much as you can while it’s being offered because you don’t know when it’ll happen again’ habit still thoroughly ingrained into him.

Martha returned, wearing soft pink scrub pants and a floral scrub top; even her work clog shoes had flowers on them. “Ready to go?” she asked, sealing up the container of grapes and replacing it in the fridge. “Rinse your dishes and put them in the dishwasher, and we’ll be on our way.”

Once Patton and Virgil had put their dishes in the dishwasher they slipped their shoes on next to the garage door headed out with Martha bringing up the rear, locking the door behind her.

The ride to school was silent except for the radio playing country songs in the background as Virgil watched the sun-lit town fly by his window, his fingers worrying absently at the cuffs of his sweatshirt. _What if Martin and Pansy and the others are there?_ He thought worriedly. _What if a teacher takes Martha away and they’re waiting? What if Patton gets hurt, and Martha and Daniel realize it’s all my fault and get mad at me and don’t want me? What will happen to me? What if –_ his inner panicked monologue was cut off by Patton prying his clenched hand open and holding it, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t worry, V.” Patton told him. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Virgil chewed on his lip for a moment. “What about you? What if they try and hurt you?”

“They won’t,” Patton replied confidently. “With any luck, they’ll be in classes anyways and we will be gone before the class ends.”

But Luck can never go their way, can it?

Both Patton and Virgil’s lockers were down the same hallway, about half of the hallway apart and on opposite sides. The principal’s office was also right there.

“I’m going to go and tell the principal the two of you will no longer be attending here,” Martha said, checking her watch. “Quickly grab your stuff out of your lockers and then come wait for me in the secretary’s office.”

“Yes, mom,” Patton said, grabbing Virgil’s hand and tugging him away. “C’mon, we have like ten minutes before classes let out.”

Patton stopped at his locker while Virgil continued on to his, glancing worriedly down the adjoining hallway first to make sure it was clear. He sniffed; it smelled like the bathroom down the hallway was in a desperate need of cleaning, he thought as he dialed the combination into his locker. When he opened the door, the stale urine smell grew so much worse.

All of his books, notebooks, and sketch pads that he kept here so Ma’am and Sir didn’t find them had been peed on and were drenched clean through. He stared down at them, unable to open his mouth to swear, or call Patton over, or anything else as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, Soulless!”

Virgil turned around, looking down the previously empty hallway. Martin and three of his cronies were sauntering out of the boy’s bathroom down the hall; one of them was the boy who shared his locker.

“We almost gave up on seeing you! Thought maybe your parents finally put you in the ground or dumped your ass in the ditch!” Martin rubbed his hands together. “Guess we were wrong, huh? Makes Pansy right, she said her aunt who works in the local emergency room saw a kid who sounded like you get abandoned by his parents, all bloody and bruised. Who would’ve thought that there’s two of you pathetic shits around here.”

They had gathered in a half-circle around Virgil, who glanced from one to the other before dropping his eyes to the floor and stayed silent, his shoulders hunched. One of the goons shoved him, throwing him against his open locker door.

“Like the present we left for you?” Martin continued, waving a hand towards the soiled books. “It was Pansy’s idea, actually. I just wanted to dump mud or eggs on them, but she said we should pee on them. And you, if we got the chance. My Mate sure is a badass, isn’t she, boys?” he grinned at his friends.

“Yeah, she is,” one of the other bullies said, punching Virgil in his stomach.

Virgil dropped to the ground, coughing, his teeth clenched in pain as his stitches tugged painfully and the already bruised ribs sent shoot pain deep into his chest.

“Speaking of Pansy’s great ideas,” said Martin as he started to undo his belt and pants. “Like I said earlier she also said we should take a piss on you.”

“What the _Hells_ are you doing?!” Martha, irate and stalking towards them with Patton and the principal trailing behind her. “Step away from him this instant!”

Martin held his hands up but didn’t move more than half a step away from Virgil. “We’re just chatting, aren’t we, Virgil?” he nudged Virgil roughly with his foot.

“Mrs. Sanderson, if Mr. Dahlmer says they were just talking with Mr. Samuels, then that’s all they were doing.” Said the principal.

“You don’t need to undo your belt and pants to have a conversation!” Martha snapped, whirling on the man. “What is the matter with the adults in this place?!”

The principal straightened. “What do you mean by that? Those foolish allegations you mentioned in my office about Mr. Henderson?” he scoffed, shooting a glare at Virgil. “Please, whatever twisted lies that… child… has been telling to you, it’s all made up, I can assure you!”

“Care to explain why I can smell _urine_ coming from Virgil’s locker?!”

“The little bastard probably pissed on his belongings in an attempt to frame Mr. Dahlmer and his friends, especially after the fight he started last week failed.” The principal said with a sneer. “Commons cannot be thought of as being on our level, Mrs. Sanderson. They are not as enlightened and well-mannered as we are.”

Patton came around the adults as his mom said something about DNA testing the urine to prove Virgil’s innocence, looping an arm with one of Virgil’s and tugging him away from the bullies.

“You cannot encroach on our students’ dignity like that, I will not allow it!”

Martha cocked an eyebrow at the principal. “If it is, as you said, not them but Virgil who urinated in his locker, then what’s the problem?”

The man tried to sputter something about besmirching the good Elite names of the families whose children attended his school as Martha, all without looking away from the man strode over to Virgil’s locker, snagging a mostly-empty large garbage bag from a dumpster on the way and emptying the few items in it onto the floor. She then pulled out gloves from her purse and put every single book into the bag.

“You will be hearing from our family’s lawyer by the end of the week,” Martha said icily as she tied the bag shut. “Not only in regards to this but also to the matter of the child molester who is teaching here.”

“Now see here,” the principal said indignantly, pointing at Virgil, “that child is not yours, so I cannot have you flinging these accusations!”

Martha got into his face. “If you had bothered to listen to me earlier,” she hissed, “Virgil _is_ my son now, according to the _law_. The fact you are trying to stop me from seeking vengeance for one of my _sons_ has assured that I will also be adding you to the list of people my lawyer will be leveling charges at! And just so you know, my lawyer is the same as the Salazar Family. If there is one shred of dirt to be found on you they will find it!”

“Told ya his family abandoned him.” One of the goons said to the others, sneering. “Wonder what he had to do to get taken in by an Elite family.”

Martin and the other boys laughed and started trading ideas of what Virgil may have had to do, the least of which were being a servant or forever doing Patton’s schoolwork.

Patton glared at the boys before tugging an almost catatonic Virgil closer to him, who seemed like his legs were about to give out. “Speaking of the Salazar Family, mother,” he said formally, his voice raised more loudly than normal, “do you think we will get to visit with them again before they leave, or will we not see them again until we move up there with them?”

Martha’s eyes glittered, understanding what her son was doing. “We will be seeing Lord and Lady Salazar tomorrow evening, actually.” She replied. “As well as their heir and their Soulmate. They’ve invited the four us over for dinner before the return home to discuss such things as the move and the guest house we’ll be living in next to their Manor.”

All four bullies went silent, and out of the corner of his eye, Patton could see they all had their mouths hanging open like fish, and he had to tuck away a smirk. He would savor their reactions – and that of the principal – later on. Right now, he focused on Virgil, who was shaking next to him.

“You will hear from our lawyer by the end of the week,” Martha said to the principal. “As will Mr. Henderson and the parents of those children.” She turned to Patton and Virgil. “Come on, boys. Let’s go.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Bullying, panic attacks, verbal abuse, slander of character. If I missed anything, let me know!
> 
> FYI: The Mr. Thomas in this chapter is not Thomas Sanders, just an OMC!

 Patton helped Virgil to the car, catching him when Virgil’s foot caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Martha led the way, carrying both her son’s backpack and the plastic bag with the urine-soaked books, depositing the latter in the back of the car and the backpack on the front seat.

Virgil almost fell out of the car when he tried to sit down, missing the seat because he could not focus; Patton caught him and eased him back into the car, clasping his forearms to keep him steady. “V?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”

Virgil did not answer, only continued to stare wide-eyed and blankly at the back of the seat in front of him, his whole body quivering slightly under Patton’s grasp. His breathing, if it could be called that, was short and sporadic.

 “Patton, do what you can to help him get his breathing back under control and calm down,” Martha said as she pulled out her phone. “I’ll be right here, but I’m going to call Clara and Thomas and let them know what’s going on. I think he’ll do better without an adult being close to him right now, given what we know about his parents.”

“You’re not his mean mom,” Patton pointed out as he took one of Virgil’s hands and put it on his chest and started the breathing exercises taught to them by the school nurse, also tapping out the count on the back of the hand he was holding against his chest to help them both.

“No, I’m not.” Martha agreed. “But in his anxiety and panic, he will probably still be afraid, and I don’t want to make this any worse. He knows and trust you and knows you won’t hurt him.”

OoOoO

To be brutally honest, Virgil had been expecting his locker to be tampered with at some point or another and was kind of surprised it had taken so long to happen. He had been expecting the usual: things to go missing, to be written on, torn up, glued shut, yes. But fricking _peed_ on?!

Not that it mattered too much. The school he and Patton would be attending in Wisconsin in a few weeks undoubtedly would be using different books. Even his notebooks with mainly class notes weren’t too big of a loss.

But his sketchbooks…

He had been rather proud of some of them; some hadn’t been finished yet.

He wanted to cry, even if most would think it childish – he _was_ a child!! – to be upset over his sketches.

“Hey, Soulless!”

Martin and his friends, one of their number included the boy who shared his locker – that explained how they got into it without busting the lock – were exiting the boy’s room down the other hallway.

“We almost gave up on seeing you! Thought maybe your parents finally put you in the ground or dumped your ass in the ditch!” Martin rubbed his hands together. “Guess we were wrong, huh? Makes Pansy right, she said her aunt who works in the local emergency room saw a kid who sounded like you get abandoned by his parents, all bloody and bruised. Who would’ve thought that there are _two_ of you pathetic shits around here.”

Pathetic. He had been called a lot worse (it was even true, so could that even be considered name-calling?). But the fact that they knew he was injured – even if they didn’t really realize it yet – was not a good thing. They would be sure to target the wounds with their blows to make it hurt more. Once the realized that had been him who had been in the emergency room and they started pushing and shoving and hitting… then the stitches would pull and break and Mr. Sanderson would be mad…

The bullies had made a semi-circle around him while him panicked brain had gone on a momentary rant. He kept his eyes down and shoulders hunched, even when one of the bullies shoved him into the corner of his locker.

“Like the present we left for you?” Martin continued, waving a hand towards the soiled books. “It was Pansy’s idea, actually. I just wanted to dump mud or eggs on them, but she said we should pee on them. And you, if we got the chance. My Mate sure is a badass, isn’t she, boys?” he grinned at his friends.

“Yeah, she is,” one of the other bullies said, punching Virgil in his stomach.

Virgil dropped to the ground, coughing, his teeth clenched in pain as his stitches tugged painfully and the already bruised ribs sent shoot pain deep into his chest. _Don’t let them pee on me, don’t let them pee on me, don’t let them… it’ll ruin my brand-new clothes that Ma’ – Martha just got me and then she’ll be so mad and disappointed and if Patton sees he’ll be so sad and –_

“Speaking of Pansy’s great ideas,” said Martin as he started to undo his belt and pants. “Like I said earlier she also said we should take a piss on you.”

_Shit shit shit no no nononono please no…_

He wanted to open his mouth, to beg and plead for them not to do it when –

“What the Hells are you doing?!” Martha, irate and stalking towards them with Patton and the principal trailing behind her. “Step away from him this instant!”

Martin held his hands up but didn’t move more than half a step away from Virgil. “We’re just chatting, aren’t we, Virgil?” he nudged Virgil roughly with his foot.

Virgil remained where he was on the floor and silent; he could not have spoken even if had wanted to.

“Mrs. Sanderson, if Mr. Dahlmer says they were just talking with Mr. Samuels, then that’s all they were doing.” Said the principal, shoot a glare at Virgil when Martha wasn’t looking.

“You don’t need to undo your belt and pants to have a conversation!” Martha snapped, whirling on the man. “What is the matter with the adults in this place?!”

The principal straightened. “What do you mean by that? Those foolish allegations you mentioned in my office about Mr. Henderson?” he scoffed, shooting a glare at Virgil. “Please, whatever twisted lies that… child… has been telling to you, it’s all made up, I can assure you!”

“Care to explain why I can smell urine coming from Virgil’s locker?!”

“The little bastard probably pissed on his belongings in an attempt to frame Mr. Dahlmer and his friends, especially after the fight he started last week failed.” The principal said with a sneer. “Commons cannot be thought of as being on our level, Mrs. Sanderson. They are not as enlightened and well-mannered as we are.”

 _Little bastard_. Again, he had been called worse, but being called that in front of Patton and Martha was so embarrassing… what were they going to think of him now? What if the principal and the bullies continued? _What if they decide you’re not worth it and leave? What if they decide you’re not worth having in their family? They could sell you, dump you, keep you as a servant, give you away, leave you here, take you back to Sir and Ma’am…_

While Virgil’s mind was racing Patton came around the adults as his mom said something about DNA testing the urine to prove Virgil’s innocence to wordlessly crouch next to him and loop an arm with one of Virgil’s and tugging him away from the bullies.

_He came for you he came for you does that mean you matter or is he going to hurt you is he going to –_

The Principal was still yelling. “You cannot encroach on our students’ dignity like that, I will not allow to slander them!”

Martha cocked an eyebrow at the principal. “If it is, as you said, not them but Virgil who urinated in his locker, then what’s the problem?”

The man tried to sputter something about besmirching the good Elite names of the families whose children attended his school as Martha, all without looking away from the man strode over to Virgil’s locker, snagging a mostly-empty large garbage bag from a dumpster on the way and emptying the few items in it onto the floor. She then pulled out gloves from her purse and put every single book into the bag.

“You will be hearing from our family’s lawyer by the end of the week,” Martha said icily as she tied the bag shut. “Not only in regards to this but also to the matter of the child molester who is teaching here.”

“Now see here,” the principal said indignantly, pointing at Virgil, “that child is not yours, so I cannot have you flinging these accusations!”

Martha got into his face. “If you had bothered to listen to me earlier,” she hissed, “Virgil is _my_ son now, according to the law. The fact you are trying to stop me from seeking vengeance for one of _my_ _sons_ has assured that I will also be adding you to the list of people my lawyer will be leveling charges at! And just so you know, my lawyer is the same as the Salazar Family. If there is one shred of dirt to be found on you, they will find it!”

“Told ya his family abandoned him.” One of the goons said to the others, sneering. “Wonder what he had to do to get taken in by an Elite family.”

Martin and the other boys laughed and started trading ideas of what Virgil may have had to do, the least of which was being a servant or forever doing Patton’s schoolwork. Virgil tried not to listen as their ideas became more and more vulgar.

“Ignore them, V.” Patton tugged him tighter against his side when Virgil’s feet stumbled and he almost fell. “Speaking of the Salazar Family, mother,” he said formally, his voice raised more loudly than normal, “do you think we will get to visit with them again before they leave, or will we not see them again until we move up there with them?”

 _Ha._ Even in the brink of a panic attack, Virgil had to admire how Patton shut the bullies up with that one single sentence. The non-too-subtle jab was sure to piss the bullies off. Thankfully they wouldn’t be around for said bullies to take their revenge, ever.

“We will be seeing Lord and Lady Salazar tomorrow evening, actually.” Replied Martha. “As well as their heir and their Soulmate. They’ve invited the four us over for dinner before the return home to discuss such things as the move and the guest house we’ll be living in next to their Manor.” Martha turned her attention from her sons to the principal. “You will hear from our lawyer by the end of the week, as will Mr. Henderson and the parents of those children.” She turned to Patton and Virgil. “Come on, boys. Let’s go.”

And that was how Virgil found himself sitting in the backseat of Martha’s SUV. He thought he heard Patton ask him if he could hear him and Virgil _could_ hear him, kind of. It sounded distant and garbled and kind of echo-y. He could not get his body to comply, to nod or shake his head, to shrug, open his mouth, nothing. He could barely get it to breathe. And doing anything other than stare wide-eyed at the back of the seat in front of him? Forget it.

Then something warm and soft and moving was under one of his hand – after Patton had forced it to unclench – and he faintly noticed that Patton was perched on the running board, holding Virgil’s hand to his chest so he could feel the breathing pattern, which he was also gently tapping out on the back of the same hand.

In for four.

Hold for seven.

Out for eight.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Four.

Seven.

Eight.

In.

IN.

In?

In, damnit!

Virgil’s lungs seized and he started coughing, having to lean against Patton as he tried to get his lungs to work; Patton caught him by his elbows and eased him back onto his seat. “Hey, hey, breathe, V. Breathe!” Patton was talking to him, but his voice was so loud and it hurt his ears everything was too loud!

“Too loud too loud tooloudtooloud…” he didn’t know when he started talking out loud. He pulled away from Patton to put shaking hands over his ears, leaning his elbows on his knees, eyes squeezed shut as he did his best to keep up the breathing and counting when Patton’s presence vanished.

_No no no he left he left he leftleftleftleft… why did he leave what did I do what did I do I’m sorry I’m sorry Patton come back please come back I’m sorry –_

“Hush,” Patton – his voice much quieter – said from his other side; Patton had gone around to the other side of the car and gotten in so he could sit next to Virgil. “V, can I hug you?”

Virgil nodded shakily.

Arms slipped carefully slipped around him, one on his chest and the other around his shoulders. “Sorry I was loud,” Patton said in the same quiet voice. “I didn’t realize being loud would be bad, and you stopped breathing so I… I was worried.”

“S’kay.” Virgil managed to rasp out, his ears still ringing and everything seemed to have been turned up; the sunlight, any and all sounds, the heat coming from Patton, the wind on his skin, the tug of his stitches and starts of scabs, the feel of the beanie on his ears, _everything_.

Something was dabbing at his face. Virgil opened his eyes and found Patton dabbing at the tears on his cheeks – when had he started crying?! – with the sleeve of his sweater. Heat filled his cheeks and shame dropped his stomach to his toes. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“Don’t be, Virgil.” Patton kept up his gentle dabbing, even the blood from his reopened split lip. “They were being mean and scary and nasty. _I’d_ be crying in your place.”

Virgil slowly sat up, Patton’s arm still around his shoulders.

“Virgil?”

Virgil flinched into Patton’s side, head whipping towards the adult feminine voice, cringing away from the figure and against Patton even as his head and body started screaming at him _she found you she found you its Ma’am its Ma’am painpainpainpainpain runrunrunrun – no don’t run that makes it worse – fearscarypainbloodpainbloodpainall your fault disgusting piece of shit worthless dirty Soulless waste of space beat it out of you beat you dead bloodpainbloodpainpain!!! You –_

The form took a single step to the – side? – and stepped so the sunlight was no longer directly behind them and shrouding their features.

 – _should just get rid of you painpainbloodpain – wait._

Martha was watching him with a mixture of worry, pity, and anger, but she did not seem to be mad at him – he remembered her yelling at the principal (for him!) just a little while ago. She waited there in silence, her hands in her jacket pockets.

Virgil flushed. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking at the ground and still curled against Patton, his teeth worrying at the bleeding and painful lip to distract and ground himself. “I – I thought… you were _her_.”

“I understand, Virgil. It’s why I didn’t try and help Patton help you. I didn’t want to make your attack worse.” She took to slow steps closer. “Do you feel any better?”

Virgil nodded slowly. “I think so.” Everything was still too loud, too _much_ , but he could breathe.

Martha smiled but did not come any closer. “Good. I’ve arranged for you to stay with an older couple who live down the block from us. Their names are Clara and Thomas.”

“Ohh,” Patton bounced slightly in his seat. “Miss Clara makes the most yummy cookies, and Mr. Thomas has the best stories from when his parents traveled with him all over the world! They’re really nice, Virgil, you’ll love them.”

Virgil was not so sure – he was, after all, just a Soulless Common. At the most he was expecting how most of his teachers treated him; cool silence.

But in the end Miss Clara and Mister Thomas were kinder than Virgil had been expecting them to be to him. They did not look down their noses at him, stare at his bruises, or even ask his last name (what would he have told them, anyway? He didn’t even know what he should say) or his Rank. They did not seem bothered by his silence, either, but Patton’s cheerful chatter more than made up for it. Miss Clara had a batch of cooling chocolate chip cookies on the table when they arrived and promptly handed each boy a small plate and two – two! – cookies apiece, waving off Martha’s thanks and telling her she knew the boys would be angels.

Mr. Thomas did have stories, and albums of pictures of him and his family – and Miss Clara, it was how they met – climbing the Great Wall, riding an elephant, trying to surf in Hawaii, touring supposedly haunted castles in Europe, Pyramids in Egypt, on and on. And it wasn’t just places and activities.

He also had pictures of random people he had talked to, and little notes about their stories from back when he and Clara were children to only a handful of years ago when they had stopped traveling due to their health. A Mayan man who gave them a (secret) tour of ruins where his ancestors lived.

A little old Chinese woman who had run away from home as a child so her parents couldn’t force her to bind her feet and joined a fair.

A twelve-year-old boy genius in Nigeria who was about to start college, planning on becoming a doctor because of his sick twin sister who was just as smart as he was but because she was bed-ridden and a girl would most likely never get to go to college there; he was planning on making enough money to move them to America, get her better, and pay for her to go to school. Last Mister Thomas had heard they were living together in Boston and his sister was getting her degree in business and an apprentice for one of the top designers in Boston.

A group of Cherokee Native Americans, the elders of the group were people who had escaped the Trail of Tears together and survived on their own for over a decade.

A Poly-Souled trio, all three of whom were transgender in Canada. One was a lawyer, one was a veterinary technician at an animal emergency center (Patton couldn’t wait to tell his dad about that one), and the other managed the shelter for LGBT youth that the three of them had opened.

And many, many more stories.

A little later Mr. Thomas pulled out a deck of cards and a box of chips and taught them to play poker, five card and seven card draw and Texas hold ‘em.

Virgil, of course, was very conservative, both with his bets and the risks he took (he never once bluffed). But if Patton’s moans were anything to go on – and the pile of growing chips next to Virgil – he had utterly no tell and ‘one Hell of a poker face, kid! Way to go!’ according to Mr. Thomas.

Before either boy knew it, it was four-thirty and Martha was back.

“Patton, Virgil, I trust you were good for Miss Clara and Mister Thomas?” she asked with a tired smile as the boys pulled on their jackets.

“Oh, they were angels!” Clara said, handing Martha a bag of cookies to take home. “Patton is always good, and Virgil is a little sweetheart! Helped me clean up the kitchen and everything!

“You’ll have to watch this one when he’s older,” Thomas said with a grinning, jerking his thumb at Virgil. “he’ll wipe out a casino!”

At his mother’s questioning look, Patton said, “Mister Thomas taught us how to play poker, mom! Don’t worry we didn’t play for real money, just for fun!”

Virgil smiled when Martha turned her gaze on him. Then he turned to the couple, “Thank you, Mister Thomas, Miss Clara, for letting us stay here while Ma’am was at work.” He winced as soon as he said it; he hadn’t _meant_ to call Martha Ma’am, it had just slipped out.

Clara shook her head. “No thanks are needed, young man.” She clasped his shoulder but didn’t pull him in for a hug as she had just done to Patton. “You are a wonderful boy and we are very glad to have met you.” She turned her attention to Martha. “If you need us to watch them again before you move, just let us know!”

“I may have to take you up on that,” Martha replied. “Either me or Daniel will be home with them this week, but next week I may need to give you a call.”

Mister Thomas walked them to the door. “Just give us a call and we’ll happily watch them. And be sure to stop over and say goodbye before you move up north!”

OoOoO

The rest of the week was a flurry of sorting and tossing, packing and cleaning. It wasn’t like there would not be room for everything – and more – at their new home, but Martha and Daniel did not see a point in moving belongings they no longer wanted or were in need of being replaced.

Anything breakable was carefully wrapped in paper and packed away by either adult. Books and movies were packed by the boys, as were plastic dishes and all of Patton’s summer clothes; Virgil had none to pack, so he offered to do the clothes while Patton started packing up his room. All of his posters were already carefully removed from the walls and door and rolled up in their tubes.

“You know, we really need to take you shopping,” Patton commented as he carefully packed away a batch of his comics (Iron Man, this time); he signed the words he knew.

Virgil looked up from the shirts he was folding, confused. “Why? I have clothes. What else I – need?” he paused in his signing. “What’s the sign for ‘do’?”

“Umm…” Patton dived for the dictionary on his desk. “Like this,” he showed Virgil.

Virgil then signed slowly, //What else do I need?\\\

“Books!” Exclaimed Patton, who then hastily signed the same. “Books, comics, sk – ” he dived for the book again. After a few moments, he set it down. “So, there’s two different signs for sketch and then book is –” he did the sign for book “we’ll have to ask Talyn and Joan if it matters which one we use when we see them again. So yeah, sketch books, toys, things like that.”

Dinner with the Salazar Family had, sadly, been that previous night. The four of them had dressed nicely and gone to the Salazar’s suite in the hotel downtown. There, the Salazar’s private chef had cooked dinner while the adults sat around the table and discussed the move, hospital policies, and more. The children were at their own table so they could talk without having to worry about the adults’ own conversations.

They did not talk about anything private, merely likes and dislikes, ranging from movies to food to colors to music. Talyn and Joan taught them the signs for the words mentioned; Virgil forced himself to apologize and explain he wouldn’t be able to remember all of them.

Talyn had waved away his apology. “Don’t worry,” they said. “It took me a while to learn, too. It wasn’t overnight, and we’re not expecting you to, either. I still find words I don’t know.”

That made Virgil feel a little bit better, and he was actually able to enjoy the meal: a dark leaf salad with sliced almonds and tiny orange slices and something called a ‘vinaigrette’. The main meal was duck with orange sauce and a vegetable medley (Patton avoided the carrots). Dessert was ice cream.

Folding another t-shirt Virgil shrugged. “I don’t need anything,” he told Patton.

If he was being honest, he would dearly love a sketchbook and a few pencils, but they had already spent so much money getting him clothes.

Patton sighed dramatically. “You are allowed to have your own stuff with us, V.” he didn’t bother to sign. “We could more than afford it before, but with mom and dad both getting these new jobs? You don’t need to worry.”

Virgil just shrugged in reply, not wanting to argue with his friend/brother.

Patton huffed and grabbed another armful of comics, muttering something about having a talk with mom when she came home.

Virgil shook his head when Patton’s back was turned. _Hopefully, he’ll forget._

Virgil’s luck never was very good.

That night after dinner while Virgil was helping Daniel fill up the dishwasher Patton pulled his mom into the living room, out of earshot.

“What’s all that about?” Daniel asked, handing Virgil a rinsed plate.

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know.” Well, he could _guess_. He just hoped he was wrong.

Which he was not, as he found out the next morning when Martha took both boys her with her when she went to ‘run some errands’.

Their first stop was a Michaels.

Martha turned in her seat. “If I remember correctly, some of what was in your locker were sketchbooks, right Virgil?”

Virgil nodded. “Yes. Our art teacher Miss Nieuwendorp gave them to me when she saw me doodling on a notebook.”

“I see. Good!” she got out. “Let’s go get you some new ones.”

Virgil balked. “F-from here?” he knew from TV and radio ads that Michaels was an _entire store_ dedicated to art supplies. It had to be super expensive!

Martha held out her hand to him. “Yes, from here. It won’t be nearly as expensive as you’re thinking, Virgil. In all honesty, I could buy out the store’s total sketching supplies and not have to worry, but I don’t think you need _that_ much, huh?” she winked at him.

Virgil smiled at her joke and took her hand; Patton linked arms with his free arm.

And she was right; it wasn’t as expensive as he had been expecting – though some of them were still pricey. This didn’t seem to bother Martha as she pushed their cart, asking if he only used pencils, if he used colored or watercolor pencils, colored ink, and more. He had only ever used a No. 2 pencil and said as much to Martha. She promptly grabbed two packages of sketching pencils that also had shading tools and a sharpener. To that, she added colored pencils, a large package of colored pens, and pastels. She also found him a carrying case to hold it all, and with it came a folding lap table.

Virgil felt so… happy… as they walked out, the bag of sketchpads – _pads,_ plural!! – and the sketching pencils held tightly to his chest.

Martha chuckled when she saw him hesitantly putting the bag in the back with everything else. “It’ll be there when we get home, I promise.” She told him. “We have a couple more stops to make, first.”

Their next stop was a _huge_ toy store.

As they wandered around, Patton stayed pretty much glued to his side, ignoring the idiots who whispered behind their hands when they saw Virgil’s black eye, adults and other kids alike.

“See anything interesting, V?” Patton asked as they went down another aisle.

Virgil stopped and looked at a large display of legos and k’nex.

“Ohh, these could be fun!” Patton peered at a large box on the bottom. “You can build what’s pictured on the box or you can build your own stuff!” he moved over a little way. “Ohh, look at this k’nex! It comes with a solar panel! You can build a Ferris wheel and it’ll actually _move_ like one!”

“That could be fun,” Virgil said. “There’s also a windmill.”

Patton looked behind him. “Mom look at this! It moves!”

In the end, they bought the solar-powered k’nex set and another big one, and three – _three!!_ – big sets of legos.

Their last stop was a Barnes and Noble Bookstore.

“You boys go to the children’s area,” Martha said, pointing towards the rear of the store. “I have a special order I need to go pick up.”

They made it to the children’s area without incident – as long as you don’t count both boys getting briefly sidetracked by a display of puzzles. Virgil was immediately drawn to the chapter books, and his eyes found on titled ‘Warriors’ in which all the characters were talking _cats_. He sat down on the floor and started reading.

“Find something good?” Patton said with a chuckle, peering at the cover. “A book about cats?”

“Talking warrior cats who live in different groups in the wild, with no people,” Virgil told him. “Some are friends, but others fight.” He eyed the books in Patton’s eyes. “What did you find?”

Patton hesitantly showed him; one was a manga he had never heard of (though it did look interesting), and the other was a book on how to draw and design your own comics. Virgil smiled at him. “That looks cool! Something I can see you doing.”

“You’re…” Patton started to say. “you’re not mad?”

Virgil frowned. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I want to draw, too. Different than you, but still…” he trailed off, looking at Virgil’s reaction.

“I don’t care, Pat. It’s what you like, so you should do it.”

Patton’s mouth split into a wide grin. “Really? Awesome!”

Martha found the both of them on the floor a few minutes later. “I take it you both found something?”

Patton jumped to his feet. “Yes! I found the volume of Inuyasha I was missing and a book on drawing my own comics, and Virgil found a series on talking warrior cats!”

Virgil got to his feet, holding the book. _Would he be allowed to get it? Just the first book. She had already spent so much money on him…_

After glancing at the title of the book he held in his hand Martha reached over and picked up one each of the entire rest of the series. “Well,” she turned to the boys. “Are we ready to go?”

“I…” Virgil didn’t move. “I’m ok just getting the first one. I have my drawing stuff and the legos and k’nex…”

Martha set the stack of books in her hands aside and knelt down in front of him. “Virgil,” she said seriously, “I want to get the books for you; you found something that interests you. Like I told you earlier, money is not an issue.”

Virgil fidgeted. “But Patton…” how could he say it without sounding mean, or getting into trouble?

“What about me, V?” Patton asked, his head cocked to the side.

“… should spend the money on you,” Virgil mumbled, unable to look up at either of them. “He’s yours.”

“You’re _both_ mine, Virgil.” Replied Martha, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to play favorites because I don’t have one. And besides,” she added, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “I have several years to make up for!”

“ _And_ I have loads of toys and books already!” Patton interjected. “You don’t! You gotta catch up!”

Virgil shrugged but let the matter drop; he didn’t want to argue with them and have them change their minds.

They followed Martha up to the checkout where the little old prune of a man glowered down at Virgil. “Gettin’ into scrapes at school, eh?” he shook his head. “What happened to well-behaved children, eh? In my day we’d be taken behind the shed with a belt,” he asked Martha, who was watching him with a frosty expression on her face.

“It’s called ‘bullies’, mister,” Patton said, his chin up and hand holding tight to Virgil’s. “We don’t go looking for fights. They don’t like us because we’re quiet.”

The old man snorted in disbelief but didn’t say another word to any of them except to tell Martha their total.

Right before they walked away, Martha glanced at his nametag. “Richard. I will be lodging a complaint with your manager as well as corporate for slander and harassment of my son.”

Richard’s jaw ticked. “Now, look here, missy – ”

“It’s Mrs. Sanderson,” Martha interrupted. “not ‘missy’. And I don’t have to look anywhere.”

“What does it matter what I said, eh?” he spat. “All you rich, intitled, stuck-up Elites! Your rich little boys could probably use a tune-up!”

“I’m adopted!” Virgil couldn’t help it; he couldn’t let this… this _man_ talk to Martha like that! “I’m Common; when… I didn’t have a home anymore, they were the only ones who took me in, without meeting me, all because Patton was friends at school with me!”

If possible, the man’s sneer grew deeper. “Ah, so you’re that brat dumped off at the hospital last weekend, eh? Parents get tired of trying to control you and teach you right from wrong? Guess they weren’t beating you hard enough? Eh?”

“ _Richard!_ ” a black man with a deep voice boomed as he stormed over to the counter, the customers parting in front of him, the few that hadn’t been watching the argument turning to watch. “That’s it! I’ve had enough! Get out, and don’t bother coming back! Your last check will be mailed to you!”

Richard drew himself up. “You can’t do that!” he spat.

‘William’ – according to his nametag – glared down his nose at the man. “Yes, I can. I am the manager of this store. I’ve had enough of your snide comments about customers and fellow employees. Now you’re harassing Mrs. Sanderson and her sons?” he pointed at the door. “Get. Out. Or I will call the cops and have you arrested.”

 “Your parents should never have stopped beating you,” Richard hissed as he tore off his nametag and slammed it down onto the counter, leaning over the counter to glare at Virgil. “Soulless creatures like you are the lowest scum of society and should be stamped out as such! Vile, disgusting, revolting parasites! Evil – ”

“Richard Harrison, you are under arrest for assault and disorderly conduct.” A white police officer stormed around the counter and seized Richard’s arms and handcuffed them behind his back. She looked over at William. “You weren’t kidding about him, were you, love?” she yanked him up. “Say another mean word to the boy and I will fucking taser you, you got it? Let’s go.”

As she led him out she yanked him to a stop next to William. “We’ll talk at dinner, ok?” she pecked him on the cheek. “See you at home!”

“Go back to your shopping, show’s over!” William ordered the gathered crowd. “Go on!” he flapped his hands.

Slowly, the whispering crowd went back to their shopping, though some went to the shelves nearby and continued to eavesdrop.

“Aiy, yay, yay,” William muttered, running his hand over his face before turning to Martha, Virgil, and Patton. “Mrs. Sanderson, I am so sorry for the behavior of my former employee.” He turned his attention to Virgil who was wrapped in Patton’s arms, face pressed to his friend’s neck. “I’d like to buy you all some hot chocolate, if that’s alright?”

Patton was scowling. “No more mean people?” he demanded.

William shook his head. “No, no more mean people, I promise.” He looked up at Martha. “Would that be ok?”

Martha put her hands on Patton and Virgil’s shoulders. “Patton, Virgil, would you like that?”

Patton nodded. “Virgil?” he pulled back enough to see Virgil’s face. “Hot chocolate?”

Virgil nodded silently and stepped away from Patton, who seized one of his hands and held on.

William motioned for another employee. “Julie, put their bags behind the counter, if you would? Thank you. You can grab them on the way out,” he told Martha.

The followed him to the little café on the far side of the store; behind them, their stalkers followed. But William didn’t stop and take a seat. He instead led them behind the counter and into the kitchen.

The employee in the kitchen looked up when they entered. “Hello, Mr. Williams. Did I hear Richard getting arrested?” he didn’t seem to be bothered by his boss bringing customers into the kitchen.

William cleaned off a small table in the corner with four stools. “Yes, he did. He went off on these fine lads. Angela was here for lunch, thankfully. She’s taking him down to the station. Can you bring us four hot chocolates, please?” He turned his attention back to them and motioned his hand. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, William,” Martha said as she took a seat. “And not just for the hot chocolate. Richard has never been friendly with me, even when he’s just been cheerful with another customer. I didn’t really care, but then with what happened today…” she trailed off.

Patton and Virgil sat opposite of Martha, leaving the last open seat next to Martha for William to sit. “I’ve given him multiple warnings,” admitted William. “He’s been disruptive with the few Elites employed here, and the moment he found out my girlfriend is a supposed Soulless…” William shook his head. “I should have fired him a long time ago.”

“Your cop friend is Soulless?” Patton asked, wincing under Martha’s glare.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Sanderson,” William told her. To Patton, he said, “She’s never, ever had any Soulmarks. So either she’s Soulless, or her Soulmate died when they were very little and for some reason, their parents didn’t write on their child’s arm to let her parents know the way mine did.”

“Free Soul Movement,” Martha said, nodding. “My sister’s Soulmate was raised in one of those communes. My deepest sympathies for the loss of your Mate.”

William shook his head. “It’s ok, Mrs. Sanderson. I let it go and moved on some time ago.”

“How did you two meet?” Patton asked eagerly, his eyes flickering to Virgil.

William smiled. “She liked to come in here after her shift – we’re open 24/7 – and have a coffee and read a book. I finally bought the book for her, and that was when I noticed she wore no Soulring, and there wasn’t even a tan line where one should be if she took it off for work. So… I asked her out to coffee here.” He paused. “At first she was pissed, thinking I was trying to cheat on my Soulmate. Even after I explained everything she still didn’t believe me, and stormed out, leaving the book behind. Two days later she came in and asked for her book, and said ‘Don’t you owe me coffee?’ She went and looked into me at the station, and saw I lived alone and wasn’t Bound. And… things just went forward from there.”

“I’m glad you found each other,” Patton said, rocking in his seat and sipping at his hot chocolate (with marshmallows, of course). “Everyone should have someone.”

Virgil listened without looking up, ignoring the look Patton shot him as he slowly drank his hot chocolate. It was good that William had found someone after he lost his Soulmate. But Virgil had not lost his, he was being ignored, hated, rejected.

If the person the _Universe_ wanted him to be with did not want him, then who in their right mind would want him?

 _It’s pointless to even look_ , he decided, sitting there in the tiny kitchen of a Barnes and Noble in Nebraska, now unable to finish his hot chocolate as stones seemed to settle in his stomach. His heart hurt.

He had Patton – at least until he met his Soulmate. He would do his best to enjoy the time he had with him.

After that… after that, he did not know what he would do.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably only one more chapter after this and then the first time jump will happen! Yays!! We're moving forwards!
> 
> QUICK QUESTION!! Does anyone know the name of Thomas' friend, the girl who did the spoof of 'shut up and dance with me' where she just tells him to shut up, and the 'poke war' one where she wins by whacking him with a folding chair?? I want to include her but I don't know who she is.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow another chapter!!
> 
> Trigger warnings: panic attack, self-harm (biting self and chewing cuticles), mention of abuse aftermath (the lacerations on Virgil's back and the bruises), discussion of discrimination.
> 
> HUGE thank you to Larz1014 and writerwisegirl for helping me with the ASL (I'm still learning) you guys/gals/non-binary pals rock!

After they got home, Virgil was still not really talking or looking at either Patton or Martha, so Patton linked arms with him and declared it was time to read until dinner was ready. After seeing them settled on Patton’s bed Martha shut the door behind her, leaving her sons curled up with each other and reading their new books. Once the faux wood was between them the smile slid off her face to be replaced with a hybrid between a frown and a grimace. She went down the stairs where Daniel was working on reheating dinner.

“What’s wrong? Something happen?” he asked, seeing the look on her face as she poured herself a glass of wine.

Martha snorted. “You could say that,” she muttered as she replaced the bottle of wine in the fridge. Taking a seat at the table she told him what had happened at the bookstore.

Daniel was shaking his head at the end. “I’m glad the store manager and his cop friend were there,” he stirred the sauce in the pan. “I can’t wait to get out of here and away from the blatant Rankism everyone seems to have. I’m so sick and tired of Elites treating Commons like they’re trash. And if they’re white Elites and the Common is something other than white?” he shook his head.

“Rankism is everywhere, Daniel, even in Wisconsin’s capital.” Replied Martha darkly. “I just wish people wouldn’t take it out on the boys; it’s not their fault, either of them.”

“No, it isn’t.” Daniel grabbed a beer out of the fridge. “But that won’t stop most of the Rankists. All we can do is teach them how to react when it does happen to them.” He sat down at the table with a sigh. “You said that the manager and the cop are not Soulmates, but are dating?”

“Yes; they’re living together, in fact.” She shook her head. “It was good for Virgil to see, I think, so he knows that even though his Soulmate rejected him, he can still find someone to love and be loved by.”

Before Daniel could reply his phone skittered its way across the counter. He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Captain Dobbs,” he said as he answered it. “Captain Dobbs, this is Daniel.” He listened. “Hang on, let me put you on speaker.” He pressed a button. “Go ahead, Captain.”

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson. I have some news about the Samuels’ house.” She paused. “The boys are out of earshot, I assume?”

“Yes, they’re upstairs reading,” Martha replied. “What did you find?”

“The fire was started in the kitchen using the gas stove,” the Captain said. “looks like they left a lit candle on top of it. The main floor is pretty badly damaged but the upstairs and the basement are somewhat intact. Outside of the master bedroom, there were no other beds in that house. From what it looks like…” she trailed off for a moment. “It looks like they were making Virgil sleep in the basement. There was a small desk, a few clothes, and an old sofa. There was also a large dog crate with a blanket in it, handcuffs on a hook in the ceiling, and a few belts hanging on the wall.”

“Virgil’s never mentioned that they had a dog,” Daniel said.

Captain Dobbs snorted. “That’s because they didn’t have one, Mr. Sanderson. We have reason to believe they would put Virgil in there.”

“What?!” Martha cried, shocked. “They would _cage_ him?!”

“That’s what we’re thinking. I’ll drop copies of the pictures off tomorrow,” the Captain offered. “Child Social Services already have copies. We are still trying to track down his parents but have had no luck so far, and interviews with neighbors have turned up nothing; everyone just assumed Virgil was being bullied at school, and no one saw Moira and John packing up to leave.”

“Keep us posted, will you, Captain?”  Daniel said with a heavy sigh. “We’ll be careful with what we tell Virgil about his parents, but we’d like to be kept in the loop as much as possible, please.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Sanderson,” Captain Dobbs replied. “and thank you for taking the boy in; from what I keep hearing it would have been very hard to find someone who would take him in and be good to him.” She paused. “And Mrs. Sanderson, I’ve spoken with Officer Johnstone who brought in one Richard Adams. He’s being processed, and seeing as this is not the first time he’s been arrested for this type of incident he will not be breathing free air until well after you and your family move.”

OoOoO

The remainder of the week and the weekend were spent packing and cleaning, all of the filled and taped-up boxes and unneeded furniture taking residence in the garage. A good amount of clothing from Patton and Martha were taken to the local homeless shelter, and furniture was driven over to the local Habitat for Humanity.

Photos were taken by a realtor who seemed the house would sell fairly quickly.

And a lot more cleaning. Even though the place was kept fairly clean Martha and Daniel wanted it to be as clean as possible, even going to the point of repainting the walls; the boys tended to get more paint on themselves (and each other) than they did on the walls sometimes.

Patton could not stop giggling as they finished painting what had become Virgil’s room. “There’s some in your hair,” he chortled. “Keep it up and you could pass as Inu Yasha!”

Virgil – who had been introduced to both the Manga and Anime of Inu Yasha – held out his paintbrush as if it were a sword. “What would that make you then, Sesshomaru? Where’s your little goblin?”

“Hey!” Patton squawked. “Sesshomaru is an awesome, full-on demon with poisonous claws and he can transform and everything! Wait until you meet Rin, too! I love her!”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Patton. “No. Spoilers.”

Patton grinned at his friend before miming zipping his mouth, locking it, and throwing the key into the bucket of paint.

“…who’s Rin?”

Patton shrugged.

“A demon?”

Patton remained silent.

“…a human?”

Patton’s mouth twitched.

“Ah, hah! Hmm…” Virgil went back to painting for a moment. “Girlfriend?”

“Thought you didn’t want spoilers?” Patton asked, refusing to look over at him.

“Well, I’m just sayin’. Inu Yasha has Kagome. Sesshomaru needs someone. Unless he’s into dudes.”

“You’ll just have to keep reading!” Patton informed him. “I’m gonna go and get mom, see if there’s anywhere we missed on the wall since you’re pretty well covered.” He skipped out of the room before Virgil could whack him with his paintbrush.

Virgil went back to the last section of the wall, still smiling a little bit.

_Was this what it was like to have a regular family, doing regular things?_

Patton came back without Martha.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Virgil.

Patton sat down on the plastic-covered floor. “She’s on the phone, I think with Mrs. Salazar. Something came up, and they’re asking if she can come up early to stay with Talyn.”

Virgil joined him on the floor. “I thought she had to work here later this week still.”

“I dunno,” Patton said with a shrug. “She did say we’d have to stay with Mister Thomas and Miss Clara again next week while her and dad are at work.”

“Boys?”

“We’re up here!” Patton called as they both climbed to their feet.

Martha stopped inside of the door, eyeing the two of them, her lips twitching. “I thought you two were supposed to paint the room, not each other.”

“Painting is messy!” explained Patton, spreading his arms to display all of the drip and smudge marks on his skin. “And Virgil’s hair kept falling in his face! We didn’t mean to get this much on each other.”

“‘This much’, huh?” she sighed, smiling. “You two go clean up, get showered, and then we’ll eat dinner. The walls look pretty good, so this room is done.” She turned her attention fully onto Patton. “If Virgil doesn’t mind, can you help him cover his back?”

Patton nodded. “I can!”

“Good. You two use dad and my shower, alright? It can fit the two of you.”

Both boys grabbed a change of clothes, stopping in the kitchen to be handed some saran wrap and medical tape before going to the adult’s bathroom which had a walk-in shower big enough to hold at least six adults easily.

“Are you ok with this, V?” Patton asked after they closed the door; usually it was Daniel who covered up Virgil’s back, but he had shown Patton how to do it for just this kind of instance.

Virgil nodded. “Not like you didn’t see it at the hospital,” he replied, the happiness from earlier draining away. _Would he be allowed to use hot water? He hadn’t asked yet, using cold water after Daniel left him alone in the bathroom._

Patton removed his paint-stained t-shirt and motioned for Virgil to do the same, which he did, slowly, wincing as the hem caught slightly on a couple of stitches.

Patton tried not to stare and make his friend/brother more uncomfortable than he already was. “There’s a bit of paint really close to one of the…” he did not know what to call them without being mean (unintentionally, of course). “Hang on, let me grab a washcloth and get it cleaned off.”

Virgil looked over his shoulder as Patton rummaged under the sink and produced a soft cloth; Virgil could see the dried paint in question in his reflection, close to one of the deeper cuts on his back. The bruises on his ribs wrapped around back there, too.

Patton wet the cloth with warm water and started carefully wiping at the paint, doing his best not to tug at the nearby sutures. “Sorry,” he whispered when Virgil winced. “I’m trying not to pull but the paint is dried onto you.”

Virgil shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s ok,” he replied. “thank you, Pat.”

Patton smiled. “No need, but you’re welcome.”

After the annoying paint was finally wiped away Patton tore off strips of the saran wrap, folded them in half, and placed them over the wounds, taping them in place to keep them dry. It took longer than when Daniel had done it, but Virgil found he didn’t mind much; Daniel, although kind, was an adult, and he had yet to have reason to trust an adult, nice or not.

Patton was different. Patton had gone out of his way in school to be nice, even when Virgil had tried to ignore him so he would go away; he had brought _food_ when he had noticed Virgil had none. He had told his parents about him to the point they had not only given him a ride to school but had actually taken him in as another son. Patton was never mean, he was patient when Virgil was having an anxiety attack, or a nightmare, and helped him through them. He shared his clothes, his books, his toys, even his bed all without question or wanting something in return. He gave Virgil hugs and would hold his hand even out in public when people looked at Virgil like he was a bug and even defended him when people said mean things.

Patton… did Patton love him?

Virgil had always wondered what it would be like to love, and be loved, but had never thought he would find someone like that, not after Sir and Ma’am and his Soulmate…

“All done,” Patton said, placing the last piece of tape. “There’s a bit of paint on your neck, but we can get that off in the shower.” He skipped over to the shower and turned it on. “It’ll just be a moment until the water is hot.”

Virgil stayed where he was as Patton stripped off of the rest of his clothes and checked the temperature of the water, adjusting the nob a little before stepping under the stream of steaming water. “You coming, V?”

Virgil hesitated. “I can… join you?”

Patton frowned. “If you want, yeah. Why wouldn’t you?”

“…not allowed to use hot water.”

“What do you use, then, cold water?” Patton’s chuckle faded as he realized Virgil was serious. “Y-you’ve been showering here with cold water? Why?”

“Sir and Ma’am…” Virgil trailed off, embarrassed.

Patton stepped out of the shower, stepping carefully so he did not fall and seized one of Virgil’s hands when he was close enough. “V,” he said sternly. “You are allowed to use warm and hot water here, ok? C’mere,” he tugged Virgil over to the edge of the shower. “Is this too hot for you?” He stuck his own hand under the stream of water.

Virgil slowly copied him, withdrawing his hand after a few seconds. “A little hot,” he said softly.

Patton adjusted the dial. “Alrighty, how about now?”

Virgil tried again. “That’s… nice.”

Patton beamed. “Good! Now, come on in!”

Virgil took off his pants, leaving them with the rest of their clothes by the door to be washed later. Stepping under a warm stream of water… it was amazing. No wonder Ma’am always took long, hot showers…

Patton was lathering up his head with so much shampoo it looked like he was wearing a white, bubbling wizard’s hat, and Virgil couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips.

“Shut up,” Patton teased. “It’s fun!” he handed the shampoo bottle to Virgil as they switched places so Patton could rinse.

Virgil squeezed a small amount into his hands and reached up for his head. Stitches on his back pulled painfully, and he was unable to hide his wince.

“You ok?” Patton asked, touching his shoulder.

Virgil nodded and tried again with the same result.

“Let me,” Patton said, squirting a fair amount of shampoo into his hands. “Turn around.”

Virgil obeyed, tilting his head back so Patton could reach. “Thank you.”

Patton also helped him to rinse the shampoo out. Virgil had to return the favor when he noticed a big splotch of paint on the other boy’s back that took more than a little scrubbing to get off.

“How did you even get that much on you?” Virgil asked as they dried off.

“I’m just that good!” Patton retorted, grinning. “Now turn around so I can unplastic you.”

They carried their dirty clothes downstairs carefully and deposited them into the open and waiting washer. Patton carefully measured out the liquid detergent, closed the top and pressed ‘start’.

Martha was just taking two pizzas out of the oven as they walked in. “Clothes in the washer?”

“Yes, mom,” Patton replied, gaze transfixed on the pizza.

“Did you start it?”

“Yes, he did,” Virgil said when Patton did not answer.

Martha took out a round tool with a handle from the drawer. “Don’t mind him, he just loves pizza a little.”

“A little? A _little_?” Patton gaped. “It’s only the best food in the entire world!”

“It smells good,” Virgil ventured.

Patton turned to look at him, shocked. He opened his mouth to say something but Martha interrupted him.  “Patton, get out plates and napkins. Virgil, if you could grab glasses for the three of us and the bottle of root beer out of the fridge, please?”

Virgil did as he was asked, confused as to why she was going to let them drink beer; all he knew about beer was that Sir had liked to drink the stuff and it made him louder and meaner than he usually was; whether he had ever drunk root beer in the house while Virgil was there or not he did not know.

Martha seemed to sense or see his confusion. “Root beer isn’t really beer, Virgil. It’s actually a sweet soda, no caffeine and no alcohol.”

“It’s really good with vanilla ice cream!” Patton added, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement in having pizza.

Virgil had been introduced to ice cream a few nights ago and had decided it was utterly wonderful.

But ice cream, with soda? That was rather… odd.

The pizza was also good, but privately Virgil felt he liked the home-cooked meals that Martha and Daniel made; perhaps _home-made_ pizza would be better…

The root beer was also good.

“Was everything ok with Talyn?” Patton asked after downing a slice and a half of pizza and most of his glass of root beer in the amount of time it took Virgil it mostly eat just one slice.

Martha nodded. “Sh – they – are just fine. It’s just instead of just Mr. Salazar being asked to speak at a conference in Chicago, now so has Mrs. Salazar. They can take Talyn with but would prefer to leave them at home. Mrs. Stokes can take care of her normally, but her sister just had surgery and needs someone with at home currently so she can’t, either.”

“So they want you to come up early and watch Talyn?” asked Patton.

“Us, yes.” Martha corrected. “Mrs. Salazar said the two of you can come up, too. They’re sending the plane for us Wednesday morning.”

Patton cocked his head. “But I thought you worked down here this week.”

“Mrs. Salazar said she will be contacting a professional in-home nursing agency and will personally pay for them to send someone to those homes they days I was going to, as well as contacting those Elite families and explaining the… situation.”

“You sound like they’re mad at you,” commented Patton.

“Well, they are,” Martha told them, grabbing another slice of pizza. “They didn’t like the short notice or the fact they had to find another Elite nurse who would do in-home care.”

“Why does the nurse have to be an Elite?”

Martha frowned. “Because they’re Rankists.”

“Rankists?” Now Patton was frowning. “So they… don’t like people who aren’t the same Rank as them?”

“Kind of. They don’t like people who are a lesser Rank than them, no matter how smart or good at their job the person is, although Rankism can go the other way, like we at the bookstore.”

“So they’re bullies.” Patton had gone from frowning to downright scowling. “Like the other kids at school being mean to Virgil; they’re being Rankists?” He shot a look over at Virgil, who had stopped eating.

“Yes, like that.” Martha replied. “There will always be people like that, boys. A good number of people don’t like people who are different than them, be it Rank, skin color, religion, number of Soulmates, orientation…”

“orientation?” Virgil asked before he could help himself.

“Whether they like boys or girls, both, neither, or anywhere in between, like Talyn.”

“But…” Virgil had to know. “How can you not like someone’s orientation when they’re your Soulmate?”

Martha seemed to understand why he was asking. “Because some people just cannot see themselves spending the rest of their lives with someone of that gender. _Or_ it’s not the people in the relationship, but people on the outside who find that Mating bad, like someone seeing two boys together.”

“Are there a lot of these bullies, mom?” Asked Patton. “What about Roman and I?”

Martha reached over and took her son’s hand. “You and Roman are Soulmates, Patton. Dad and I have no problems with the fact he’s also a boy. Other people out there might not like it and be bullies about it. Whether you choose to ignore them, report them to a teacher or what will depend on the situation. But that is not something you need to worry about right now, ok?” she squeezed his hand.

“Maybe things will be better when we’re older, when you meet him,” Virgil said softly. “Maybe there will be less mean people then.”

Martha smiled. “We can hope, can’t we?”

“You also said number of Soulmates,” said Patton, absentmindedly chewing the crust of his last piece. “Mr. Thomas mentioned a-a… how did he put it?” he looked over at Virgil for help.

“I think he said ‘a Poly-Souled trio’ who were all trans – transgender?” Virgil frowned down at his plate. “I think that’s what he said.”

“Ah,” Martha nodded. “‘Poly-Souled’ means they have more than one Soulmate; it’s very rare. In this case, it was a trio, which means three.”

“Ok. What does transgender mean?” Patton asked.

“Well,” said Martha, “it’s… it’s like if a girl was born with a boy’s body, or a boy was born with a girl’s body. Inside, in their mind and heart, they’re one gender, but their body is wrong.”

“Oh, ok.” Patton nodded in understanding. “What happens to them?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Patton waved his hands at his body. “How do they get the right body? Can they, even?” he looked at his mom, worried.

Martha smiled. “Not to worry, Patton. There are medications and even surgeries to help.”

“Oh, good.”

And that was that.

OoOoO

Daniel was not (too) upset that they would have to leave before him. “At least they’re paying for you to have off until you have to leave,” he said when Martha told him when he got home that night. “Gives us a few more days to pack.”

The next morning, they had to run out and purchase suitcases for both Patton and Virgil, who were told to pack five days’ worth of outfits as well as one to wear the day of the flight, and two sets of pajamas; the rest was packed away to await the moving company. They were also directed to pack a book or two for the flight up to Madison.

“It won’t take too long, so don’t pack too much,” Martha told them. “And something for you to do until the rest of your belongings arrive. You can also put a few more books, toys, and games in your suitcases. _Only_ a few!” she added, raising an eyebrow at Patton who looked like he had already started scheming on just how many of his toys he could fit into his suitcase.

Virgil ended up packing his sketchbook, pencils, and colored pens in his backpack, along with book three in the Warriors’ series. He wished he could take the legos and k’nex, but they were stored in long, narrow plastic bins on wheels so they could slide under his bed; way too awkward to try and pack in his suitcase. Book four and five, as well as the watercolor pencils and another sketchbook, joined his clothes.

Vigil found Patton trying to shove some action figures into his suitcase after already putting a few other toys and board games into it on top of his clothes. He looked up at Virgil, eyes wide and worried.

“They don’t fit!” he exclaimed. “I need to take them, V! What if the truck gets lost and I never see them again?!”

Virgil smiled at him. “I don’t think your parents would hire a company that would lose things,” he said, trying to be reassuring.

“I know,” Patton said dejectedly, staring down at his jam-packed suitcase. “But still…”

Virgil shook his head. “I have a little room left in my suitcase; let’s see what we can fit in it.”

Patton was overjoyed; Martha, when she checked on what they had packed, was not.

“Patton, limit yourself to two games and five other toys, all packed in your own suitcase,” she said sternly. “If, _if_ , Virgil wants to pack _a_ game in his, that’s fine. But that is all. Got it, boys?”

They nodded in unison.

It took Patton a couple of hours to narrow his choices down. In that time, Virgil decided to pack their Apples to Apples in his suitcase and (insisted on) helping Martha wash all of the windows on the main level, as it was one of the few things left to do.

Wednesday morning came, way, way too early.

Tuesday night, Virgil could not sleep; he was almost afraid to, and his stomach was in knots.

_What if they move and realize they don’t want me anymore?_

_What would the new school be like? How many bullies will there be?_

_What if they realize how good I am at cleaning and just want me to clean?_

_What if they leave me at the airport?_

_What if the Salazar’s change their mind when they find out about me and make Martha and Daniel kick me out?_

_What if they all get kicked out, will they blame me? Will it be my fault?_

More and more thoughts started swarming their way around in Virgil’s head, louder and louder until voices that sounded like Ma’am, Sir, Martha, Daniel, Patton, Mr. Henderson, Martin, Pansy and more were all screaming at him.

_Useless!_

_Soulless!_

_Boy!_

_Brat!_

_Bastard!_

_Ugly!_

_Disgusting!_

_Waste of space!_

_Homeless Soulless!_

_Worthless!_

_Stupid!_

Pain.

Why were his fingers hurting?

Virgil looked down at his hand, the desk lamp in the corner giving light to see he had chewed the cuticles on three fingers to the point they were bleeding.

“Crap,” Virgil muttered, snagging a Kleenex and dabbing at the blood.

_They’re going to be so mad! What if I got blood on the sheets? What if people see, and stare! I’ll embarrass Martha and Patton! They’ll hate me! They’ll kick me out they’ll hit me they’ll yell at me they’ll hit me they’ll hate me hate me hate me hate me hate –_

More pain.

This time he had bitten the meat of where his thumb and palm connected, leaving indentations of his teeth in his skin.

But no blood.

The indents eased up slowly as Virgil watched, though they remained red-purple.

But, more importantly, when the pain was there, the voices were not.

It was that night that Virgil realized he could hurt himself to help dull the roaring panic, to silence the voices in his head, and ease the pain in his heart.

And he never stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless I change my mind, the next chapter will be a time jump!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok sooo... I'm doing another chapter before the time-jump, but only one! I will be posting the next chapter within the week, seeing as it's already pretty much finished.
> 
> Trigger warnings: minor self-harm (pressing on bruises), minor anxiety.

 Wednesday morning came way, way too early, even for Patton.

It was not that he was going to miss this place; he hated the school here, there were no family members here – the vast majority of them disliked how Martha and Daniel would “sully” (whatever that meant, it probably was not good) themselves in working among Commons for a living; and best thing of all, his only friend was now his _brother_ and was coming with them.

Moving was going to be an adventure; a new school, new friends, new house, pretty much new everything. They would be attending the same private school as Talyn and Joan, and that had to be a good thing, right? Would they allow bullies into a school like that?

He hoped not.

On the other side of the coin, there was the trip up there itself. He had never been on an airplane, so had no idea what to expect. Would there be other people on the plane? Would it be loud? Scary? How did airplanes even _work_ and stay up in the air? Would there be food? Mom had said the trip would not be too long, so if there was no food it would not be too terrible, but still…

He was awake when his alarm went off. He turned it off and sat up in bed with a sigh, glancing out the still-dark window, wishing he had been able to sleep more (would he be able to sleep on the plane?). His room was filled with full, taped-up boxed. They had finished everything but dad’s books and clothing last night, and the only thing not packed away in Patton’s room was the clothes he was going to wear today. Also in the room was his suitcase, awaiting his toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo.

Deciding to grab a shower before Virgil got up – he always hit the snooze button at least twice – Patton hopped out of bed, snagged the clean clothes, and tiptoed to the bathroom (were there toilets on the plane?).

As he passed the stairs, he could here mom and dad already in the kitchen and could smell the bacon cooking. Changing course, he knocked softly on Virgil’s door.

“V?” he called quietly. “Mom and dad are making breakfast. I’m going to jump in the shower quickly if you want to shower next.”

Footsteps pattered over to the door. Virgil opened the door, damp hair in its usual disarray. “Couldn’t sleep,” Virgil said with a yawn. “I’ve already showered.”

Patton grinned. “Alrighty then! I’ll go jump in and out!” he cocked his head. “I thought you were going to wear the black hoodie, not the green one.”

Virgil looked down, his fingers tugging the cuffs of the sleeves down around his hands. “I’m cold,” he explained quietly. “I wanted to wear the one with the finger holes.”

“Gotcha,” Patton said with a nod. “Hopefully the plane will be warm!”

OoOoO

Virgil sighed in relief when Patton bought the lie – well, partial lie. He _was_ cold. The black hoodie was very warm and comfortable –

 – but it would not have covered the barely-there bruises on the skin of his hands. He did _not_ want to have to explain them to Patton or his parents. He did not want to think about what they would say, do, or think if they found out.

_Freak!_

_Weirdo!_

_Disgusting!_

_Get out!_

He shook his head, clenching his hands into fists, putting pressure against the meat of his thumbs, right over the bruises. Pain shot up his hands, making them ache.

But the voices shut up.

With a sigh, Virgil returned to his room and his half-stripped bed. The comforter was on the floor, half-folded. Taking one end he dragged it to the opposite side, repeating the process until it was (mostly) folded up and stuffed it into the last box, followed by the pillows. The sheets he put into the hamper waiting by the door.

After one last look around the room to triple-check he had not forgotten anything, Virgil slung the backpack on and grabbed the suitcase, taking it carefully down the stairs.

“Virgil?” Martha came out of the kitchen drying her hands on a towel. “Good morning! You can leave those in the hall; the Salazar’s are sending a driver to pick us up and take us to the airport in an hour. Come on, I have breakfast almost ready!”

Virgil did as she said and followed her into the kitchen. Daniel was stacking pancakes on a plate in the middle of the table, which was already set. There was bacon on another plate, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a jug of milk.

Out in the hall, Patton fell down the last two stairs with a clatter. “I’m ok!” he yelled. More clattering followed as he moved his suitcase next to Virgil’s and skipped into the kitchen singing, “Good morning!”

“Good morning, Patton,” Daniel greeted. “Sleep well?”

Patton nodded, eyes on the food. “Like always!”

Virgil waited until Patton had served himself before cautiously helping himself, loading his plate with less than what Patton had taken.

“Virgil, you may want to roll your sleeves up, so you don’t get syrup on your new sweatshirt,” Martha suggested as she grabbed another pancake.

Virgil hesitated. What if they saw? What would they say? What would they _do?!_

But the long-ingrained obedience – no matter it had been phrased as a request – won out and he slid his sleeves up, and waited, tense, for one of them to say something.

But no one did.

Virgil forced himself to eat what he had put on his plate, half-listening to the two adults as they discussed Daniel’s transition up to the children’s hospital in a few weeks. He had already spoken some of the heads of the other departments, and they were excited about having him as an addition to the hospital staff. He was so involved with trying to eat, to not have an anxiety attack, and listening to the adults he did not even notice when Patton nodded off next to him, head in his hand until the boy’s elbow slid off the table and he fell off his chair with a loud thud.

Virgil burst out laughing, fears and worries forgotten for three seconds before he clamped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide and panic back a lot greater than before but neither adult seemed to notice, as they were laughing hard themselves and Virgil allowed himself to smile.

“Oops?” Patton said sheepishly. “I… I think I’m still a little sleepy.”

“You think?” Daniel chuckled. “Better take a nap on the plane!”

Patton picked himself back up and into his chair. “Can I?” he asked.

Martha nodded. “You can nap in a plane, Patton,” she told him. “Some planes are noisier than others, but I think on the Salazar private jet it’ll be clean, quiet, and just us and the staff.”

Virgil suppressed a shudder; being trapped who-knew-how-high in the air with a bunch of strangers did not sound like a place he would want to nap, or anything else.

They helped clean up, loading the dishwasher and wiping everything down. As soon as that was done Virgil ran upstairs and grabbed the dirty sheets and put them into the wash.

“Sorry I won’t be here to move them over and put them away,” Virgil said, apologizing to Daniel.

Daniel waved off his apology. “I’ll be home all day,” he said. “I have my own washing to do, so it’ll be no problem to take care of your bedding. The box is still up in your room, correct?”

“Yes,” Virgil replied, nodding. “it’s still open. I think the tape is in Patton’s room.”

“It is!” Patton said as he joined them, rocking on the balls of his feet. “It’s on top of the boxes by the door.”

A knock on the door made Virgil jump; Daniel clasped a gentle hand on his shoulder before walking down the hall and answering the door; Patton and Virgil peered around the corner to see who it was.

A young gentleman with blonde hair cropped close to his head and dressed in a black suit with a green tie introduced himself as George, hired by the Salazar’s to take Mrs. Sanderson and her sons to the airport.

“I’ll go and let my wife know,” Daniel said. “just a moment.”

“Not a problem, sir,” George replied, standing on the steps outside as if he could not feel the rain starting to drench his back as the wind changed direction, blowing rain underneath the porch.

“Please, please, come in,” Daniel waved the other man in when he noticed he did not take the open door as an invitation. “It’s nasty out today.”

Surprised, George came inside, being sure to stay on the rug and not drip on the floor. “Thank you, sir!”

Daniel closed the door behind him. “No need for thanks, but you’re welcome.” He said with a smile. “Excuse me for a moment.” He went up the stairs to speak with Martha who was on the phone with a frantic former client.

George spotted the two boys peering around the corner at him. “Hello!” he said cheerfully. “You must be Mrs. Sanderson’s two sons?”

“Yes,” Patton nodded, coming around the corner. “I’m Patton, and this is Virgil.”

Virgil had to be tugged out around the corner, still well-aware he had fading bruises on his face.

George, for his credit, did not say a word about them (though his jaw did clench for a moment). “Want to see a magic trick?” he asked instead, getting down on one knee so he was not towering over them.

“Yeah!” Patton bounded over, dragging a poor Virgil with him.

George fanned the cards out towards them, face down. “Pick a card, both of you.”

Patton picked one, nudging Virgil to do the same.

“Alright, memorize what card you have in your hand, and then put it back in somewhere other than where you pulled it out,” he instructed.

After they had done so George made a show of shuffling the cards in his hands before smoothing out the sides so it was one single stack of cards. “Patton,” he said, his hands on the top card of the deck, “was your card the – ” he flipped the top card “the jack of diamonds?”

“Yes!” Patton cried, his body rocking. “How did you do that?”

George smiled. “Magic,” he said. Then he flipped the deck over so they could see the card on the bottom. “So that must mean, Virgil, that your card was the ace of spades?”

Virgil nodded wordlessly.

“Ha!” Patton exclaimed. “That’s so awesome! How did you learn that? Were you in a circus or the assistant to a magician?”

“Nothing nearly as fancy as that,” George replied. “My twin was in the hospital for a very long time, so I got a book about card magic and learned card games and card magic to keep them smiling.” He got to his feet as the other two adults came down the stairs.

“Oh, thank you for waiting for me, George,” Martha said with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “A former client was frantic, worried the new nurse wouldn’t know what to do for their mother and I had to assure them they knew what they were doing.”

“Mom, after we move I want to get a book for card magic! George showed us and it’s so cool!” Patton interjected before George could reply. He seemed to realize he had interrupted the adult’s conversation because his face flushed. “Sorry, mom. Sorry, dad.” He looked at George. “Sorry, sir.”

The shock of an Elite – even if it was just an Elite child – called him ‘sir’ made George blush.

Martha sighed, but she was smiling. “We will see about getting a book for you, Patton. But next time, wait until the adults have finished their conversation.”

Patton, whose face was now beet-red, nodded and stayed silent.

“I didn’t mind waiting, Mrs. Sanderson,” George said. “I’m sorry about getting your sons excited, they just seemed a little nervous about today, and I thought a card trick would help them feel better.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for them,” said Daniel as he helped Martha into her coat and handing the boys their own. “Would you like help with the suitcases?”

George’s composure cracked for a moment before he mended it. “No, sir, I can take care of them, I promise.”

“Ok, then,” Daniel said with an easy smile. “Relax, kid, we’re not like most Elites.” He turned and embraced his wife tightly. “Call me when you land, ok? Let me know you guys got there safely.” Then he knelt down and hugged Patton in a big bear hug. When he released his son and turned his attention to Virgil, he held out his hand for the other boy to shake.

Virgil hesitated for a moment but then, with a burst of reckless spontaneity, leaned in and hugged the man who had taken him in.

Daniel froze for a brief moment before returning the embrace with a gentle one of his own. “Keep an eye on Patton for me, will you?” he said as he released Virgil. “Don’t let him eat all the candy on the plane.”

The ‘there’s candy on the plane?!’ was ignored by everyone.

Virgil nodded silently and smiled as he grabbed his backpack and they followed George out to the car.

Make that huge, black and chrome SUV with tinted windows.

Oh, dear.

OoOoO

The ride was quiet and relatively short; Martha sat in front with George, another thing which seemed to surprise the young man, but the two of them started talking about metalsmithing of all things after Martha noticed George’s necklace.

Virgil and Patton watched the wet city fly by, holding hands across the middle of the car, both too nervous to say anything.

George took them to a small airport where there was a small plane waiting, a huge metal staircase up against it and a door on the side of it. As they parked close to it, four people descended the staircase, three of them carrying open umbrellas; the rain had pretty much slacked off (for the moment) so Virgil did not understand the need for them, but followed Martha’s example and allowed one of the umbrella-carriers to escort him up the stairs, shaking his head when the man offered to take his backpack.

The inside of the plane was not what he had been expecting; it looked like a long and narrow living room with a lot of small, oval windows on either side. There were chairs with seatbelts, but also tables and couches that looked somewhat comfortable.

“Please have a seat,” one of the people said. “we will be taking off momentarily.”

Patton and Virgil sat down next to each other on one of the couches, their backpacks next to them while Martha sat in one of the chairs with a table, setting her large purse on the next seat.

Back at the door, George and the fourth person were putting their suitcases into a cabinet. George paused to save goodbye. “Have a good trip, Mrs. Sanderson, Patton, Virgil. Hopefully, the weather is better where you’re headed!”

“George, wait!” Martha got to her feet and pulled something out of her pocket and tried to hand it to George.

George balked, shaking his head and murmuring something Virgil and Patton could not make out, but Martha was insistent, so he finally took it with a smile and a thank you.

“What did you give him?” Patton asked curiously after she sat back down with them.

“A tip,” Martha explained. “He was very nice and did his job very well.”

“A tip? Is that what you or dad leave money on the table when we go out to eat?”

“Yes,” replied Martha. “Tips are how people like waiters, waitresses, and people like George make money.”

Patton cocked his head, not even seeming to notice that the hatched was slammed shut behind them. “Don’t the places pay them?”

“Well, yes they do,” Martha explained. “but most places don’t pay them a lot because the employees allowed to be tipped. Some people tip more than others, and some don’t tip at all. That is why unless the server is extremely rude or something similar your father and I tip them very well.” She looked out the window. “Looks like we’re about to take off!”

Virgil and Patton turned around in their seats to see the metal staircase being pulled away from the plane; George and the SUV were already gone. At the front of the plane, a man in a suit was shutting and locking the door. A woman came out of a partitioned area at the front of the plane.

“Hello!” she said cheerfully. “My name is Joy; I’m your flight attendant for this flight! If you have any questions or need anything, please just let me know!” She then launched into a description of the seatbelts – after asking Patton and Virgil to move to one of the regular chairs facing the front of the plane, telling them that they could move after they had reached ‘flight altitude’ – and what to do in case of a wide variety of emergencies.

Needless to say, it did nothing for Virgil’s mounting anxiety.

After that, Joy stowed their bags and coats in a closet against the wall and disappeared back into the partitioned area.

“Look,” Patton said, pointing out the window to Virgil’s left. “we’re about to take off!”

Watching the plane slowly – at least it seemed slow – move to a different plane road in the airport was rather interesting. On another plane road, they could see another plane taking off; it was going _really_ fast!

“It must be very hard to drive one of these,” Virgil murmured to Patton.

Patton nodded vigorously. “I know, right?”

The noise from the engines suddenly picked up and the next thing either boy knew, they were going _really_ fast down the road, their bodies pressed against their seats and then –

–and then they were in the air. They were _flying._

The boys stared in wonder out the window as the ground disappeared, the houses shrunk and then they were flying through the clouds, lines of rain skewing their vision. Several moments later the clouds disappeared and there was sunlight and as the plane leveled the noise level went down.

“Mom, look!” Patton cried in astonishment, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Virgil. “We’re _on top of the clouds!!_ This is so, so cool! _”_

Martha was looking out of her window. “I see that, Patton.” She said, looking over at the boys with a smile.

“You can move around now,” Joy announced. “Can I get you or your sons anything, Mrs. Sanderson?”

Martha was in the process of moving herself back over to the table. “Do you have iced sweet tea?” she asked.

Joy nodded. “Yes, we do! Plain, lemon, and raspberry.”

“I’ll have the lemon, please,” Martha said, glancing over at the boys. “Which would you both like?”

“Raspberry, please!” Patton said as he had Virgil situated themselves on the couch, opening his backpack and taking out a notepad and pencil.

Joy turned her attention to Virgil. “And you, young man?”

Virgil hesitated; he had never had iced tea before. Not to mention his nerves were still on high-alert to the point his hands were fisted in his pockets, and the minor bruises from last night were doing little to help now.

“Virgil will have raspberry, too,” Patton said when Virgil remained silent.

Joy’s eyes flickered over to Martha, who nodded. She then disappeared into the partitioned area at the front of the plane.

“V?” Patton asked softly, shuffling closer to his friend. “You ok?”

//Nervous, Anxious.\\\ Virgil finger-spelled before reverting to clumsily signing the words he remembered. //Sleep bad last night. Never travel before.\\\

There was a lot more to it than that, but Patton and Martha did not need to know that.

“You’re with us,” Patton said, bumping their shoulders together. “I’m always going to be right here with you. I promise.”

OoOoO

_I’m always going to be right here with you. I promise._

Patton was leaning against Virgil still, tongue between his teeth as he was writing out a plot line and character information for the manga he wanted to draw (something about modern-day ninjas who used magic and were being hunted by the government and their own magic-wielding soldiers) tucked under a shared blanket Joy had brought over to them when she noticed Virgil was cold; Virgil was attempting to focus on book two of the Warriors series but Patton’s statement was still ringing in his ears and had sent his mind off in several directions.

One the one hand, no one had ever made that type of promise to him (oh, he had been promised a lot of things: beatings, no food, being bullied, etc) but to always be there for him… he did not know what to make of such a promise. He cared about – and maybe, just maybe, loved? – Patton, the first person to be kind to him, and would do the same for him in a second, but to be promised to always have someone there for him…

But on the other hand, what about Roman? When Patton and Roman met, what would happen to the promise? Would Patton even still have time for him then, or even want to be there for him?

Virgil glanced over at Patton who was crossing something off on what looked like a character layout page and writing something else, and another question reared its ugly head: did he want to hold Patton back from Roman?

The answer was no. His own Soulmate may have rejected him, hate him, and want him gone – the silence was evidence enough – but he certainly did not want that or anything similar for Patton, who deserved the world, to be happy with his Mate.

Perhaps one day, Virgil decided, he could find a way to show Patton he was ok on his own – even if he was not – and Patton could move on and be happy (and free of Virgil) with Roman. He could live his life the way he was supposed to be, with his Roman, his _Soulmate_.

But that would be several years from now, so he had time to come up with a plan. Both Roman and Patton’s parents had agreed to not allow the boys to meet until after they finished high school, wanting the boys to focus on their schoolwork and grades instead of spending time with each other.

 _If he doesn’t reject you sooner,_ Virgil’s mind hissed. _How long until that happens, hmm? What will you do then?_

Virgil had no answer for that, other than a hope that if it happened it was a long way off; even he knew he was not strong enough to be on his own. Unless…

…unless he could pretend. Pretend he was strong enough, pretend he was ok, pretend he was fine on his own.

Pretend.

OoOoO

At some point or another, Virgil had fallen asleep with his Warriors book open on his chest and Patton snoozing on his shoulder. Virgil awoke to a gentle hand shaking his shoulder as well as Patton’s.

“Boys?” Martha said, “We’ll be descending shortly, so if you have to use the bathroom you might want to do so; there’s two in the back of the plane.”

Patton rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “When di’ I fall 'sleep?” he asked thickly.

Martha chuckled. “About two hours ago, one of you right after the other.”

Patton sat up and stretched, yawning loudly as Virgil put his book back in his backpack, twisting his body slightly to ease up the cramps in his neck and back.

“C’mon,” Patton said as he got to his feet. “let’s go to the bathroom quick.”

The ‘bathrooms’ were so small, tucked behind sliding, fold-up doors, and the noise when the toilet was flushed was deafening, and the water from the sink ice-cold.

When Virgil emerged, Patton was waiting for him. “Ready to watch us go through the clouds again?” he asked excitedly as they walked back to the seats where they had sat at the beginning of the flight.

Joy was there talking to Martha. She motioned to the seats. “You young men have a seat, we will be descending towards Madison within the next five minutes. I’ve already stowed your bags.”

Virgil shooed Patton over. “You sit by the window this time,” he said. “so you can see everything better this time.”

They started the descent, disappearing back into the clouds; Patton had his hand pressed to the lower portion of the window and his forehead was against the side of the wall, peering through the window at the clouds.

“I wish I could reach out and touch them!” he said to Virgil. “I wonder what they feel like!”

It was not raining in Madison; in fact, the ground was covered in snow. It was cold and cloudy, but no snow was currently falling from the clouds they had just passed through.

The plane landed with only a minor jolt and a loud roar of the engines and their speed slowed, and they made gentle turns until they were close to the main airport building and stopped.

Joy got to her feet. “Alright, we have arrived!” she said as she took their coats and bags out of the closet. “It’s thirty-one degrees out, and snow is expected later this evening. Oh, you can leave that!” she added when Virgil started to fold the blanket. “I’ll take care of it!”

Patton helped Virgil get his coat on (Virgil could not wait until this weekend when Martha and Daniel had said the stitches could come out) before putting his own on. They both grabbed their bags and waved goodbye to Joy as the two pilots grabbed their luggage and followed them down another metal staircase.

Instead of another black and chrome SUV was waiting for them it was a freaking black and chrome _limousine_ , its engine running. A red-headed woman climbed out of the driver’s seat to greet them.

Hello, my name is Shannon,” she said in a Scottish accent, her face full of smiles. “Please, get inside where it’s warm while I help these fine lads load the luggage; Talyn and Joan are waiting for you inside. Do you want me to put your bags in the back?”

Martha motioned to the boys. “Put your backpacks in the back, boys.”

Virgil and Patton followed Shannon to the rear of the limo and put their backpacks inside once she opened the trunk to be followed by their suitcases; there was still a lot of room left over.

“It’s so crunchy!” Patton said with a giggle, taking baby steps so he could make the snow crunch under his shoes. “Listen!”

Virgil snorted at his friend’s amusement.

Inside the limo, Martha was greeting Joan and Talyn who were both wearing soft-looking button-up coats and leather boots.

“Hello!” Patton said with a wave as he climbed inside after Virgil. “The snow is awesome!”

Talyn laughed. “Wait until February or March, then you will hate it!” they said.

Joan was signing something; Talyn translated. “Joan says that making snowmen and having snowball fights is fun, but not forever.”

“How long do the winters last here?” Martha asked as the limo started moving.

“Depends on the year,” replied Talyn. “They can start anywhere from October to December and last until March or April, occasionally there’s still snow in May.”

Martha sighed. “Sounds about right.”

“That long?!” asked Patton in astonishment. “That’s…” he paused, counting silently on his fingers. “That’s over six months! That’s half a year!”

Joan was laughing. //You get use to it,\\\

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Replied Patton. “I happen to like the sun!”

The conversation went on, touching on the weather, the flight, and Madison itself until they felt the limo slow down and make a turn.

“Home sweet home,” Talyn said with a sigh, looking out the window.

“Holy cow!” cried Patton. “That’s your _house?!”_

The ‘house’ was actually a Manor, three stories tall plus an attic, with huge windows throughout the blue walls, each with a set of white shutters. They pulled up under covered entry wide enough for at least two cars. There was a snow-blanketed garden next to the house as well as within the roundabout (and that one looked like it had a fountain), and a glass greenhouse was on the far side of the house, connected to the wall. Smoke was waving out of three of the five chimneys.

“Shannon’s going to take you down to your house,” Talyn said as the limo came to a halt. “Joan and I will come and check on you three in a bit, if that’s ok. Give you all some time to settle in. I believe my parents have already furnished it, but if there’s anything you don’t like, or that you’re bringing your own we can take out. The kitchen should also be stocked, and mom put one of her cars in your garage for you use as you need to.”

The door opened, and a man in a suit was waiting with Talyn’s wheelchair.

Joan looped one of Talyn’s arms around their neck and lifted them up off the seat. Only one of Talyn’s feet seemed to move as they tried to help Joan in getting them out; the other leg was dragged behind them. The man in the suit reached in and helped bring Talyn out and place them into their wheelchair.

“See you later!” Talyn said, waving goodbye.

“Bye!” Patton waved before Shannon closed the door and returned to the wheel.

As they pulled away from the Manor, Patton asked hesitantly, “Mom, what’s… what’s wrong with Talyn? Why can’t she – they, I mean – use their legs?”

Martha sighed. “It’s called Spinal Bifida. It means their spinal cord didn’t develop properly before they were born. The nerves the brain uses to control their legs don’t work properly, so they can’t walk normally. It’s different for each person, but Talyn has to use a wheelchair.”

“Will they get better?” Virgil asked; he could not stand the thought of being stuck in a wheelchair for his whole life.

Martha shook her head, a sad smile on her lips. “So far, there is no way to cure it, only help with the issues that arise. Helping to care for them and help with everyday things is why the Salazars hired me to be Talyn’s private nurse.”

The limo stopped again in front of a smaller version of the Manor, down to the blue walls and white shutters, even a garden off the far end of the house; it was easily twice as big as the Sanderson’s home in Nebraska, if not three times. Two stories plus what looked like an attic, with windows showing through the stone base from the basement.

“Wow,” Patton breathed, distracted.

Shannon led them to the house and up the shoveled steps, and through the green door.

The hallway leading off of the entryway was dark-stained wood with a very long carpet covering most of it. To the right was the dining room, and to the left a living room. There was a closet near the door where they hung their coats; there were four keyrings on the table next to the closet.

“One for each of you,” Shannon explained. “Feel free to explore the house while I bring in your suitcases in and leave them down here. There are two bedrooms down here with attached full bathroom, another one upstairs. There is also a shared bathroom between two of the rooms upstairs that we thought the boys would enjoy, but there are other bedrooms up there if not, just with no attached bathroom. The kitchen is down the hall and to the right, or you can go through the dining room. The driveway loops around to the garage in back, which is connected to the kitchen.” She smiled. “I hope you like it here.”  

Patton was rocking on his feet in excitement. “Can we go look, mom? Please please please?”

Martha laughed. “Go on and look around, I’m going to go look at the bedrooms down here first.”

Patton grabbed Virgil’s hand and they dashed up the stairs as soon as Martha finished speaking. It took four tries to find the two rooms connected by the bathroom. The first one had a window which looked out at a river, and another window partially covered by an ancient pine tree. The bed was against the far wall, and a chest of drawers was next to what turned out to be a walk-in closet. The walls were half dark-stained wooden panels and the rest was painted light blue; the carpet was a dark blue similar to the outside of the house.

“Ohh, look at the river!” Patton crowed, bouncing over to the window with the view. “I could move the desk over here and stare at it when I lose my focus!” he paused. “Unless you want this one,” he added.

Virgil shook his head. “You can have it,” he said with a smile.

Patton seized Virgil’s hand again, pulling him towards the bathroom. “Let’s go look at the other one first!”

The bathroom had two sinks with faucets similar to an old water pump spout; mirrors were hanging in front of the sinks, made from the same dark stone as the countertop. The shower and tub – which looked like it could hold both boys with room to spare – were separate. Tucked behind the shower was a small closet with folded towels and spare toiletries. The floor was black and white checkered tile.

The other room had the same walls and floor as the other, but this one also had a window seat which looked out over a huge field and a bit of the garden. The window seat itself was lined on both sides with bookshelves, and a large cushion and pillows made it comfortable. The room also had a chest of drawers and a walk-in closet, and the bed was in the corner against the far right wall, creating almost a nest.

“Do you like this one, V?” Patton asked, swinging their joined hands.

Virgil did; he loved it. The window seat, the bookshelves – the room in general – it was all so wonderful. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, I love it!”

Patton beamed at him. “Perfect!” He looked in the walk-in closet. “We’re going to have to get you more clothes! What you have right now won’t even begin to fill this! And books and toys!”

“Patton? Virgil?” a voice called to them before Virgil could answer.

“We’re in here!” Patton called. “We already chose our rooms!”

Martha opened the bedroom’s door. “Oh, this is nice!” she looked around. “Who’s going to be in here?”

“Virgil is!” Patton said. “It’s perfect! It has bookshelves and a cozy window seat! Mine has a window that looks over the river! I want to put my desk there! Then when I get stuck on something, I can look outside and be insp- inspareded!”

“Inspired,” Martha corrected with a smile. “And don’t you mean daydream?”

Patton blushed. “Maybe?” he said with a grin.

Martha chuckled. “As long as you can still do your homework, I don’t see why we can’t do that.”

Martha helped them take their suitcases upstairs, directing them to unpack and hang up their clothes and put away any toys, books, and games they had brought with them while she called Daniel and let him know they had arrived safely.

Virgil could hear Patton singing some Disney song as he loudly pranced around his room, putting things on his own shelves and hanging up his clothes; thankfully all the closets were already well-stocked with hangers.

Perhaps… could he? Could he manage to be happy here? He had Patton, and Patton’s parents; perhaps he would become friends with Talyn and Joan – they would be attending the same private school so who knew – and he was far away from everything in Nebraska.

Could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone ASL fluent ever sees anything I am doing wrong, please let me know!
> 
> Beware: Time jump ahead!! :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Bullying, panic attacks, description of self-harm (cutting, scarification, anorexia, bulimia), flashback of death of both parents (one in a hospital, one via suicide). If I missed something let me know!
> 
> ALSO: To anyone who has read this chapter and comes back, I changed Patton from going to Chorus to Drama. Will make a note in the next chapter as well.

 High school. Where one was supposed to learn, be prepped for college, make friends, and start becoming an adult. What no one mentions are the sleepless night, bullies, stress, and pressure to be better than your classmates, let alone be better than yourself.

Around three AM seventeen-year-old Virgil gave up trying to sleep and shoved himself out of bed. He ignored the bathroom joining his and Patton’s rooms and instead made his way down the stairs to the main floor. He avoided the third step from the bottom, not wanting its squeak to wake up Patton who could sleep through a severe thunderstorm but seemed to have super-sonic hearing regarding anything having to do with his adopted brother – and Virgil really wanted some time to himself; it helped that he and Patton were the only ones in the house since both parents were away at a seminar in Florida and not in their bedroom down the hall.

After successfully getting into the guest bathroom and shutting the door, Virgil leaned against the sink’s white counter, eyes staring down the drain, hesitant to look up at his reflection, knowing what he would see; pale skin, dark eyes with bags so dark they looked more like bruises, especially under the fluorescent light – it didn’t help that one of them was an actual fading bruise, courtesy of one of the high school’s bullies. He was also thin, his cheekbones standing out prominently on his features thanks to his lack of eating recently – more like the past several months – due to stress at school (among other things), and a good portion of what he did eat came back up anyway. His hair was dyed black and long enough to be in his eyes and be tucked behind his ears (according to his teachers it was in a desperate need of a cut), but he liked it, and mom and dad let him do it (“It’s just hair” they had told the school officials “Let him do what he wants”).

It hid the bruises on his face better when it was longer.

He turned away from the mirror without looking up and turned the water on in the shower, hoping the thunderstorm he was starting to hear would mask the sound of the shower. He didn’t stay under the hot spray long – it was still so ingrained in him to get in and out as swiftly as possible – and it took several long moments of standing in front of the mirror wrapped in a towel before could make himself look up at his reflection – if only for a moment – before turning away and clicking the light off.

The storm sounded like it was getting stronger and quite possibly turning from rain to sleet if the sound of ice pellets hitting the windows were anything to judge by, Virgil thought as he returned to his room in his dirty pajamas, upset with himself for not grabbing clean clothes.

“Couldn’t sleep again, huh?”

Virgil sighed, though he wasn’t really surprised. “No,” he replied as he made his way over to his closet and began stripping out of the dirty pajamas, dropping in the laundry basket before reaching for a clean pair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, Pat.”

Patton was curled on Virgil’s bed, eyes watching the black lava lamp on the bedside table. “You didn’t, don’t worry. It was that stupid pine tree outside of my window scratching on the glass. I swear it sounds like something out of a stalker or horror movie! I keep waiting to hear it squeaking open or something!” he paused, realizing he was starting to go off on a tangent. He continued, “Anyways, I was already awake when I heard the shower downstairs turn on. Mom and dad have their own up here, and besides that mom’s away at a conference and dad is working a double shift at the hospital so I knew it had to be you. Unless we have a housemate you haven’t told me about!”

Virgil emerged from the closet dressed in black sweats and his favorite purple sweatshirt and joined Patton on the bed as Patton scooted back to make room. “And you didn’t just roll over and go back to sleep?”

Patton’s smile was visible in the dim light cast by the lava lamp as he looped an arm around Virgil’s chest. “Because the tree was stalking me and creeping me out, and I wanted to check on my favorite brother.”

Virgil snorted. “I’m your only brother, Pat.”

“But if I had more siblings you’d still be my favorite!”

Virgil felt a genuine smile tug at his lips. “You’re my favorite, too.”

OoOoO

Virgil managed to get a whole two and a half hours of sleep with Patton sound asleep next to him before the alarm on his phone went off at six-thirty.

Patton, always the cheerful morning person practically bounced out of bed, “You going to want breakfast, Virgil?” his face was creased as if he already knew the answer. “Or just coffee?”

Virgil rubbed his hands over his face. “What’re planning on making?”

“Chocolate chip pancakes!”

“…if I eat one, will that make you happy?”

“Yes!” Patton jumped on top of Virgil, giving him an exuberant hug before bouncing back off and running to his own room to change and grab his school bag.

“Mental,” Virgil muttered as he heaved himself upright with a sigh, though the small smile he had tucked away took the edge off his words as he forced himself out of bed and headed over to his closet after locking his bedroom door and the one which led into the connected bathroom.

The vast majority of the clothes in his closet were all on the darker end of the color spectrum, meant to keep him unseen and not stand out. Not that it always worked, bullies still tended to find him no matter what even in the private school he and Patton attended (which thankfully did _not_ have uniforms), but it helped him avoid the majority of the other students.

He finally decided on black jeans and a faded dark gray zip-up sweatshirt with a deathly hallows sigil on the right upper-hand side over a long-sleeved navy blue top. He changed his clothes quickly, attempting to ignore what he had been able to ignore in his sleep-deprived state a few hours ago:

His scars.

A few were from “scuffles” with bullies both in and out of school, but the vast majority were from his own hand, triggered by bullies, school, and stress; but most of all from his own mind. They started above his wrists and went all the way up to his shoulder, top and bottom, horizonal and vertical, thin and wide; there were even a few on his thighs.

In an attempt to hide hid the pink, white, and scabbed-over lines decorating his forearms, Virgil grabbed a set of arm-warmers and slid them on and pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over them. It wasn’t Patton he was hiding them from – Patton was the only one who did know. He didn’t really understand the reason and tried to be there for Virgil as much as he could so he didn’t have to turn to such measures and helped him hide it from their parents.

If Patton had not been waiting for him when he returned to his room…

Virgil’s eyes flickered over to the far wall, to the three ordinary-looking panels of the walls that he had found four years after they moved in would pull out to reveal a wooden ladder which led to a tiny space that had once been part of the attic but someone had closed it and the one narrow window off to create a sort of ‘safe haven’; no one seemed to know about it and Virgil told no one, not even Patton. That was where Virgil kept most of his ‘supplies’, the back-ups in case Patton changed his mind and told his parents and they searched his room. He did, of course, have _something_ for them to find down there; two blades – one hidden in the bottom of his pencil cup, and another taped underneath his bed – and a small first aid kit but it was nothing compared to his hidden area.

_If only he had time…_

But he didn’t. Not this morning.

After slipping his feet into his shoes, Virgil entered the bathroom and flicked on the light. He made short work of putting on his makeup (foundation, powder, and heavy eyeliner) and brushing his hair – even though he’d be putting on a beanie shortly – more out of ingrained habit than anything else before donning a black beanie and shouldering his already-packed book bag and heading down the stairs, not with Patton waiting for him downstairs.

Patton already had the coffee almost brewed and was just finishing cooking a second pancake, the first half-eaten on a plate next to the stove. Patton looked up and beamed. “Perfect timing!” he flipped the pancake in the pan with no tools, catching it perfectly before flopping it onto a plate and handing it to Virgil before dumping the rest of the batter into the pan to make one last huge pancake.

Virgil took it and set it aside, choosing to grab his travel mug from the sink and pouring coffee, milk, and creamer into it with practiced ease. He had been just about to grab the plate when his phone dinged in his pocket to indicate it had just received a text message; it was a new phone and new number so he had not yet had the time to assign tones for the few people who had his number.

“If it’s Talyn or Joan, let them know we’re eating at home this morning and not up at the Manor,” Patton said through a mouthful of pancake, sending a few crumbs flying.

Virgil snorted, shaking his head as Patton cleaned up his mess as he retrieved his phone from his pocket as it dinged again. And again.

**[6:47AM Unknown Contact|Blocked Caller] We know what you are, freak.**

**[6:47AM Unknown Contact|Blocked Caller] Things like you shouldn’t be allowed in our school.**

**[6:48AM Unknown Contact|Blocked Caller]** **Stay away. The likes of you aren’t wanted here. If you show up, you’ll be sorry.**

**[6:48AM Unknown Contact|Blocked Caller] Do us all a favor and step in front of a bus.**

**[6:48AM Unknown Contact|Blocked Caller] U R a disease. Diseases die.**

**[6:48AM Unknown Contact|Blocked Caller] Soulless garbage. Piece of shit.**

“Virgil?” Patton asked, voice concerned. “It’s not Talyn or Joan, is it?”

Wordlessly, Virgil shook his head, flicking his phone onto silent and shoving back into his pocket.

//Bullies got new number,\\\ he signed, his hands shaking as he tried.

Patton growled, setting the empty frying pan into the sink harder than he needed to. “Those fucking asshates!” he spat, coming around the counter and hugging his brother. “Don’t listen to them! They don’t know you, and they don’t fucking matter!”

If he had not been on the verge of a panic attack Virgil would have laughed at his brother’s use of the ‘F’ word when he always scolded Virgil for swearing; for Patton, the rules went out the window where his brother was concerned. As it was, all Virgil could do was shake his head and wrapped his arms around his brother, pain blossoming in his chest.

“Is this going to be a silent day?” asked Patton softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Virgil nodded.

“Ok.” Patton released Virgil, pausing to cup his face with one hand and card through the hair peeking out from under the beanie with the other. “I love you, you know that, right? So do mom and dad, and Talyn and Joan, and even Roman. _You_ _matter_ to us, got it?”

Virgil’s eyes shut briefly as he nodded, turning into the comfort of Patton’s hand, accepting the comfort it offered for a moment before flashing a small smile and turning to his coffee.

To make Patton happy, Virgil forced himself to choke down half of the pancake he had made for him before they had to head over to the Manor to meet up with Talyn and Joan to go to school together.

As it turned out it had started to sleet. Patton grabbed his light jacket and handed Virgil his, the look in his eyes demanding no arguments when Virgil started to refuse. It would just end up stuffed in his locker (thankfully at this private school, everyone had their own lockers) but it was always such as hassle…

In the end, Virgil had to grudgingly be grateful as they walked over to the Manor in the sleet, the hood drawn up to cover his head and beanie, coffee in hand and bag on his shoulder.

Talyn and Joan were waiting for the chauffeur under the outdoor overhang, out of the sleet. Talyn’s usual smile slid off their face when they saw Patton and Virgil walking up, arms links. “Something’s wrong. What happened?” They demanded, concerned.

//Bullies got new number,\\\ Virgil signed, his eyes flickering over to Joan in silent apology for only signing instead of speaking.

//No worry,\\\ Joan signed back. //I understand. Anxiety make you no want talk. Most people in school think you mute, too. You do what you need to.\\\

Virgil managed to produce a small smile for the teen as their ride pulled up. //Thank you, Joan.\\\

“Good morning, kids!” Thomas, the overly-cheerful employee of the Salazar family said after he got out to open the doors for them, the ramp on the side of the car lowering for Talyn to get their wheelchair in. “How are we today?”

“Good,” chorused Talyn and Patton.

//Tired,\\\ Joan signed. // Up late. School project.\\\

Thomas shook his head. “And you waited until last night? That was rather silly of you, Joan.”

Joan threw their hands into the air in defeat, but their grin offset the dismissive gesture. //Oops.\\\ They said before turning to help Talyn lock their wheelchair after they moved themself up the ramp and into the car, locking the wheels to the anchors on the floor before taking the seat next to them; Patton and Virgil were already in the rear seats.

As the SUV pulled away from the Manor, Patton nudged Virgil’s shoulder to get his attention. //Breathe, Virgil. We have same classes today. I will not leave you alone.\\\

“Oh!” Talyn exclaimed, turning in their chair to look back at the brothers. “Guess what! Valerie is moving back home! She’s planning on attending the UW and has changed her major from Physician to Veterinarian!”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” replied Patton with a grin. “An animal doctor! That’s so her!”

“ _And_ ,” they continued, sharing a look with Joan, “She wants to help us get The Unseen into being an actual band! Her Mate Morgan has a club with a stage where we can play for free!”

“The what now?” asked Patton, confused.

//The Unseen.\\\ Signed Virgil. //Band Talyn, Joan, I want start with few friends.\\\

“Oh!” Patton smacked himself on the forehead. “The one where the audience doesn’t know what any of you look like?”

//Yes.\\\

Patton did his best to tackle-hug Virgil across the backseat of the SUV, managing to elicit a smile of his quiet brother. “Oh, my gods that is so awesome! Congrats, you three!”

“Make sure I get tickets to your premiere!” Thomas said from the front seat, grinning at them from the rearview mirror.

Virgil, Joan, and Talyn all flashed thumbs up to Thomas who giggled, taking his hands off of the steering wheel briefly to rub his hands together. “Yays!”

“We need to come up with awesome stage names for all of you!” Patton exclaimed, and immediately set to plotting.

Those moments were the last good portion of Virgil’s day. In the crowd entering the school, someone bumped hard into Virgil and sent his coffee mug into the water-filled ditch, and no matter how desperate the raven-haired teen was for his coffee he wasn’t drinking it out of something that had been in ditch water, not without sending it through the dishwasher at least twice.

At least it wasn’t his bookbag. Or his beanie. That happened a lot, especially his beanie. It was why he had spares in his locker and bookbag.

Too bad it wasn’t his phone. Again.

The teachers ignored him, at least, as they always did; none of them knew how to sign, and all thought Virgil was a mute, something his parents (even after these years he still found it odd – although deeply wonderful – to call Patton’s parents his own) allowed him to let them think. But as soon as a teacher’s back was turned, nothing could stop some of the other students from picking on Virgil – word had spread on his he had been ‘adopted’ into the Sanderson household, word of how he really was nothing but a Common, and whispered followed that, saying that he was a Soullless. At least in class all they could do was hiss threats at him and throw wadded up paper at him; he had learned long ago to not open them up because more often than not what was written on the paper was not an invitation to a ball.

And of course the teachers either didn’t see or ignored the bullying going on in their mostly-Elite- and Noble-filled classrooms, and one teacher – history – outright ignored it completely. Although there was one teacher, Mr. Honig, who taught English, didn’t allow it, period. He would write up any and all infractions and was even known to actually knock grades of those who didn’t learn from their detentions and reports to their parents, regardless of their Rank. It had caused him problems with some of the parents, but he blandly responded that if he had to teach not only English but take over the parent’s job and teach the children manners as well he would very damn-well knock grades, thank you very much.

But, sadly, they didn’t have English until tomorrow. Instead, Virgil and Patton started out with History. Thankfully, they had arrived before a majority of their classmates, so Patton and Virgil were able to snag seats in the last row, and Patton made sure to put Virgil in the corner; a new kid was in the desk in front of Virgil, and someone else was in the desk in front of Patton.

Virgil flashed a small smile at his brother as the rest of the class started to file in, the bullies in the class all but groaning when they saw their favorite victim was out of reach. Virgil did his best to ignore them, choosing to instead scrawl ideas for lyrics on his notebook, even going so far to ignore the teacher explaining that one of the students had brought a friend to school that day as an extra desk was brought in.

The class itself passed Virgil by in a blur, and he barely understood what it was about – something about Ancient Egypt… maybe… – before the bell rang and everyone started packing up their notebooks.

“Patton Sanderson, please stay for a moment,” the teacher said in a bored tone. “I need to speak with you about your paper.”

Patton froze briefly, glancing at Virgil, who shook his head. //No worry,\\\ he signed. //Math room not far.\\\

Virgil slipped out of the room, head down and shoulders hunched as he saw out of his peripheral vision a couple of the bullies heading his direction.

“Oi, piece of shit!”

Virgil ignored the voice, picking up the pace.

“I’m talking to you, Soulless!”

A hand grabbed him and shoved him into the lockers, making him stumble. The same hand seized his collar and slammed him into the same set of lockers. Virgil could see out of the corner of his eyes that it was the same bullies as always – he didn’t even know their names except for their leader, an Elite boy and son of two lawyers, Deegan Fibbet – as they peered at him, maniacal grins on their faces.

“Aww look, it’s Silent Soulless!” one of them leaned in. “Didn’t we tell you not to show your face here?” he hissed. “Didn’t we warn you to stay away or you’d be sorry?”

One of them slammed a fist into his stomach; the others laughed.

“How did you manage to get yourself into an Elite home, all painted up like a little fuck-boy whore?” Deegan asked, head cocked to the side and a sneer on his face. “Is that it? Are you a little whore? A little slut, bearing his ass to anyone who will pay you?” he leaned in. “I bet you’re cheap. Maybe we’ll use you to party after school!”

“ _That_ is _no_ _way_ to talk to someone!”

It was the new kid’s friend – Virgil vaguely remembered the teacher saying he was only here for the day, there with his friend Terrence – and he looked pissed.

The new kid took a few steps forward. “Let him go,” he ordered as he stalked over.

One of the bullies scoffed. “And who are you to tell us what to do?” he sneered. “We’re Elites.”

“I’m from the Prince-Fowl Family,” he announced, glaring at the other boys as if they were dog shit on the bottom of his shoe. “Either of those names ringing any bells?”

One of the bullies immediately backed off. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered.

His friends looked at him like he was mental. “What is wrong with you?” Deegan spat, incredulous.

“ _Fowl,_ ” the Prince-Fowl boy repeated. “As in Fowl Industries? And Prince? They’re one of the oldest Elite families in Europe _and_ America! Coming back to you now?”

“The _Fowl_ _crime_ _syndicate_!” the scared bully hissed to his friends. “They beat my uncle to death, and he was a Noble!”

Understanding seemed to dawn on the other gathered bullies; they backed off. “He’s all yours,” Deegan sneered. “Make sure you use protection if you’re going to fuck that; a whore like _that_ is sure to have a lot of diseases.” He looked down at Virgil. “We’ll see you later, Soulless.”

They left, loudly joking about how many diseases Virgil probably had.

Virgil – who had some point, had slumped to the floor though he could not remember when – did not bother to look up when the teen approached; he stayed cowering where he was, useless as always. He did not know this Prince-Fowl boy, and he could very well be yet another bully; just because he made the others leaved did not mean anything and based on the fear of the ‘Fowl Crime Syndicate’ was anything to go by this boy might be as bad if not worse than Deegan and his cronies.

The other teen crouched down. “Are you ok?” he asked softly, reaching out to touch Virgil’s shoulder but withdrew his hand when Virgil flinched away from him. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Virgil nodded jerkily, still not looking up. //Thank you, sorry.\\\ he signed.

“I don’t know how to sign.” The Prince-Fowl said almost apologetically. “I keep meaning to learn, though. Is there someone I can go and get for you?”

Virgil forced himself to briefly meet the teen’s eyes before looking away, hating to see the pity in the crime boy’s eyes when he saw the line of blood from Virgil’s lip. He shook his head negative, carefully pushing himself upright against the lockers, feeling the bruises pinching painfully on his chest and back.

“Oi, there you are.” Another teen who had to be Terrance was huffing, winded from running. “We have English, dude, we gotta go or I’ll be written up again, and then my mums will kill me.” He looked at Virgil. “You ok?”

Virgil nodded, not even bothering to look up from the floor.

“Well, take care,” Prince-Fowl said offhandedly, waving as Terrance pulled him away down the hall.

Virgil waited there until Patton came running around the corner only to skid to a stop next to Virgil. “V?” he approached him carefully. “Bullies?” Then he caught sight of the blood on Virgil’s face. “Those fucking fuckers! Are you ok?”

Virgil started to nod his head but stopped when Patton dabbed at his split lip with the cuff of his green sweater and shook his head, hands tucked in his pockets and head still tucked.

Patton sighed heavily. Gently, he leaned against Virgil arms wrapped around his brother. “I’m sorry, Virgil,” he murmured, his voice thick with barely held back tears. “I shouldn’t’ve left you alone.”

Shaking with silent sobs, Virgil wrapped his own arms around Patton and clung to him for dear life. “I can’t keep doing this, Pat. I just… can’t.”

Patton didn’t know what to say, but he could hear the brokenness in his brother’s voice. All he could do then and there was hold on tighter. “I love you, V. I love you so, so much.”

Before they turned the corner, Roman Prince-Fowl glanced back at the bullied teen, and saw someone – the kid’s Mate, he supposed – embracing him. _Good_ , he thought. _That poor kid needs someone. If I went here, I would be his friend and be there when his Mate isn’t. I_ hate _bullies. Name-calling, shoving, hitting… I hate them!_

He was sorely tempted to back to the pair and let the teen’s Mate know what had happened and who the perpetrators had been, but Terrence pulled him away.

OoOoO

Patton helped Virgil get cleaned up before lunch, when they would see Talyn and Joan, for all the good it did; the blood might have been gone but the cut was still there, and the lip was still swollen.

//What happen?\\\ Joan signed frantically as soon as they had set their and Talyn’s trays down, their eyes noticing the split in their friend’s lip.

//Deegan plus friends,\\\ Virgil replied as he turned his attention back to trying to interpret Patton’s sorry excuse for hand-writing on the notes he hadn’t bothered to take in history class.

 Talyn groaned under their breath. “I really wish the teachers would do something about them,” they grumbled. “Elites or Nobles, it doesn’t excuse their behavior.”

“At least we only have one more year and then we’re all off to college,” Patton offered half-heartedly, twisting the stem off his red apple. “I doubt most of them will even bother with any of the local colleges like we are going to do.”

“Off to Harvard and other Ivy League schools their parents are buying them spots in,” muttered Talyn. “Instead actually working to get in.”

Virgil desperately wanted to be on his phone and listening to music, but really didn’t want to know how many missed texts he had from the school bullies. If anything else happened at school, he doubted he would be able to keep the looming anxiety attack at bay. As it was, he would for sure crash when he got home. Luckily for him, Patton had Drama after school, and they all always went out to eat afterward. Speaking of eating, there was no way he was going to be able to eat anything…

A water bottle was plunked in front of him by Patton. “At least drink something,” Patton asked softly, his tone bordering on pleading. “And you know what? Give me your phone. I’m going to go through and delete and block everything that’s come in.”

Virgil hesitated. //No read, please.\\\ he requested.

Patton nodded. “I will do my best.”

With a sigh Virgil handed his phone over and tucked his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers fumbling with a smooth stone he had found a few weeks ago, fingertips gliding around the surface, feeling the one small pock-mark on one outer edge.

It took longer than he would have guessed for Patton to delete and block everything.

“We’ll talk to mom and dad about changing your number tomorrow when they get home, ok?” Patton said as he handed it back, flicking on airplane mode before he did. “You’ll only be able to listen to your downloaded playlists but this way no texts will get through to you.”

“I have an app I’ve been working on to only allow previously marked numbers be able to contact you,” Talyn pipped up. “and that includes blocked numbers. Once it’s done and up I’ll let you know.”

//Thank you.\\\ Virgil signed as he dug out his headphones from his bookbag, grateful to have his music to distract him from the creeping anxiety, slipping around under his skin like ice and heat together, coexisting and painful all the way to his bones. The noise in his ears was only currently a low hum instead of a shrill scream so his music was able to drown it out without being overly loud.

To Virgil’s surprise, it was Joan who leaned against him after they finished their lunch – Patton was hastily doing a quiz he had forgotten about – and just stayed there against his side as a warm and comforting presence as they played cribbage on their phone.

They all did this for each other, sometimes; they all had anxiety and depression to varying degrees, even Patton. It got them weird looks – from disgust to scandalized to perverted – and they (tried) to ignore it all. Talyn, as a Salazar, was well-known in school as was their Mate Joan, so they never really got hassled or bullied beyond the occasional name-calling, usually in regards to Talyn being in a wheelchair, or the fact the two of them were gender-neutral. People usually assumed that Virgil and Patton were Mates until they heard otherwise. But to see non-Mates in so much physical contact with one another? Yeah, they got a _lot_ of unpleasant looks.

Like right now Deegan was trying to get Virgil’s attention by making some rather rude gestures, which was apparently entertaining his friends who were leaning against the table they were laughing so hard. Virgil usually would have ignored him, except for the fact he saw two new additions to Deegan’s group; one boy, and one girl.

And, if Virgil was not mistaken, it was Martin Dahlmer and his Mate, Pansy.

 _Fuck_.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…..

A hand on his shoulder made Virgil jump and flinch away; the hand withdrew. Virgil’s eyes flickered over to Patton who had his worried face on and his head cocked to the side in silent question.

Virgil’s hands were shaking as he slowly signed, //I think I see Martin, Pansy from Nebraska school.\\\

“What?!” Patton hissed, just barely managing to keep his voice down. “Where?”

Virgil silently flickered his eyes towards Deegan. //With Deegan.\\\

Patton – rather obviously – looked over; Martin noticed and gave him a smirk and a wave.

//Who?\\\ Joan asked, eyebrows raised.

//Bully plus his Mate from our Nebraska school.\\\ replied Virgil, the panic growing to the point he could barely hear the music still being pumped into his ears or even really focus. //He also bully Patton because he friends with me.\\\

“Wait, isn’t he one of the ones who peed on your books in your locker right before you left?” asked Talyn, their tone horrified.

Patton moved slowly until he placed an arm around Virgil’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he said. “that was him, and his friends. But the idea was, according to them, from Pansy.”

“That’s disgusting!” Talyn replied angrily. “Please tell me they got into trouble.”

Virgil snorted and remained silent, so it was Patton who replied, “Mom tried; she bagged up all of the books but the lab conveniently ‘lost’ them and they ended up being incinerated before any samples could be taken.”

//Yes. Sure. Lost.\\\ Joan signed, adding quotation marks on either side of signing lost. //Did school do anything? Detention? Suspension?\\\

“No.” Patton spat, packing up his mostly uneaten lunch. “Principal tried to talk to mom out reporting them along with – ” he caught himself. “ – other things.”

Talyn and Joan didn’t know about Mr. Henderson, and Virgil wanted to keep it that way.

//Things?\\\ Joan asked.

//Bullies being bullies,\\\ Virgil signed without looking up from a crack on the table. //All Elites. I just Common. Common no matter.\\\

“Shush, you.” Patton pulled Virgil tighter against him and Joan resumed their position of leaning against Virgil; Talyn reached across their table to put their hand on Virgil’s wrist. “You’re not allowed to talk like that about my brother.”

Patton’s attempt at being stern made Virgil smile, even if only a small one. But still his anxiety was bordering on falling into a full-on panic attack because he knew it was only a matter of hours – days if he was lucky – before Deegan and Martin and Pansy teamed up and came hunting him down. He could only hope they would catch him alone and leave Patton alone. Bullies here at least had the sense to not bother Talyn and rarely Joan even if he was Mute; no one wanted to piss off a Noble Family, even one as ‘reformed’ and ‘good-doer’ as the Salazars.

A Common taken in by an Elite family was fair game.

OoOoO

Patton had Drama after school, and Joan and Talyn were taking an A.P. class for computer technology. Virgil usually stayed in the library where Mr. Honig stayed after school and kept an eagle eye on everyone, but when he and Patton walked out of Geometry Thomas was waiting for them.

“Talyn texted me,” he explained. “Said you were having a rough day and would want to go right home.”

Virgil’s face flushed. //I ok,\\\ he signed. //no need for you make multiple trips.\\\

Thomas brushed Virgil’s worries off. “It’s not that far,” he replied. “and the Salazar’s don’t mind. So c’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

Virgil turned to Patton. //See you later,\\\ he signed. //Have fun in Drama.\\\

“Of course I will.” Patton hugged his brother. “Go home and rest, ok? I’ll message you when we’re on our way home, so keep your tablet close by.”

Virgil nodded into Patton’s shoulder. “Love you,” he whispered.

Patton flashed him the ‘I love you’ sign, which Virgil returned before leading Thomas to his locker so he could grab his jacket before leaving. He caught sight of Deegan and Martin and they started towards him before they saw he was with Thomas.

“I can bring the car up,” Thomas offered as they went outside and found it had started snowing.

Virgil shook his head.

Once they were in the car and the engine started, Linkin Park started to come out of the speakers. Virgil looked over at Thomas with raised brows.

“Hey, I know they’re one of your favorites, and I like them, too.” Thomas explained as he pulled out of the parking spot. “thought it would help you relax.”

Virgil nodded. //Thank you.\\\

Thomas beamed. “Not a problem at all!”

By the time they arrived at the Sanderson home Virgil’s panic was barely containable, he was barely able to wave goodbye to Thomas before walking up the stairs, unlocking the house and closing – and locking – the door behind him.

Then it hit him.

His hearing became sharp and roaring, his skin burning up as he dropped his bag, keys, and coat in the floor, using the wall for support as he made his way down the hall and up the stairs, slipping twice before making it to the second floor. He had to stop and force his lungs to inhale.

_Almost there, almost there, almost there…_

How he got from the top of the staircase to his room Virgil had no recollection; as it was, he barely remembered to grab his tablet before going over to the far right wall and pry away the loose boards, setting them aside; there was no need to pull them back into place since he was the only one home.

He collapsed on the nest of old blankets once he made it up the ladder, setting the tablet aside where he could see if the screen lit up (hopefully) before curling into a ball and crying.

Once the initial panic started to bleed away, the real bleeding began.

OoOoO

It happened less and less now. One every couple of weeks at the least. Usually, it was something small, a flower on his wrist, the pawprint of an animal, or just swirls of shapes or colors. The odd thing was that sometimes it was as if ‘V’ would take a fine-point eraser to the drawing that appeared on Logan’s skin and draw straight lines through it, distorting if not outright destroying the image.

This time it had been almost two months.

Logan was doing homework – a bunch of long, complicated math problems for his AP Calculus class – when he felt the feather-light tingling on the inside of his upper arm. He ignored it as he always did. Or at least he tried to. On the sensitive skin, he could almost picture what his Soulmate was drawing there: A heart with a line through it, and the line was connected to a rectangle with detailing inside of it. Perhaps a heart-shaped kite?

By the time he finished with his homework and went to take a shower the image was too distorted to make much sense of, because this one was altered differently. Instead of lines removing parts of the artwork, the erasing lines followed the lines of the red and black ink drawing, as if the colors had been traced with the erasing agent.

Logan raised a hand, tracing the design with a finger. He was tempted to go back to his room and retrace the colors and complete the image so he could see what V had been drawing. He was tempted to write to his Soulmate, to beg for forgiveness, to explain his actions.

But he didn’t.

That night, he dreamed.

_“Don’t worry, Logan,” his mother, Lilliana, whispered, the hospital bed making her look even smaller and frailer than she actually was. There was an IV in her arm, a combination of fluids and powerful pain medication, and a clip on her finger and a blood pressure cuff on her arm. Her lips were chapped, her skin paper-thin and hanging off of her bones, the muscles already wasted away. “You and your father will be ok, I know it. You’re so brave, my little boy, and so, so smart. You will grow up to be a wonderful man, a teacher, or a scientist, or an astronaut! You’re always looking up at the stars.”_

_Logan held onto her hand as tight as he dared. “I don’t want you to leave, momma,” he begged, ignoring the tears on his cheeks. “Why aren’t the doctors making you better?”_

_Lilliana smiled sadly. “They’ve done all they can.” She winced as she tried to sit up; Logan hurriedly adjusted the pillows behind her. She continued, “The disease… it’s too hard for them to fight. They’ve tried everything they can, everything that is known about and it just isn’t enough.”_

_Logan scowled. “Why… why don’t they know what to do?”_

_“The doctors and scientists are still learning about my disease, and countless others, Logan. It’s a very hard job, figuring out how to fight diseases and figuring out what works, and what doesn’t. They just don’t have enough knowledge yet.”_

_Logan’s mind – a genius, as his mother had said, with an IQ of at least 148 – tried to grapple with what she was saying. “And… they can’t figure it out now?” his voice broke. “What’s going to happen to you?”_

_“Come here,” Lilliana patted the bed next to her. Logan climbed up and gingerly laid back next to her. She continued, “it takes years – decades, even – for them to even start understanding diseases and how they work, Logan. And after that there is so much more they have to do before they can create and test new medicines. It’s… not going to happen in time for me. I’m so sorry, Logan.” She pulled him against her. “I’m so, so sorry.”_

_“I love you, momma,” Logan choked out, returning her embrace. “I love you.”_

_“I love you, too,” Lilliana whispered. “Now, listen to me. Follow your dreams, wherever they may take you. Go into whatever field of learning you are drawn to, and I know you will excel in it. I want you to start writing to your Soulmate, and let them be there for you after I’m gone. And remember, I will always be with you, right here,” She placed a hand over her heart. “and forever, I will love you.”_

_That was the last time Logan and his mother had spoken without a heavy haze of pain medication clouding her mind and slurring her words. She died ten days later._

_Logan remembered her funeral. Family members came up to him, said they were sorry, but Logan did not believe them. If they were so sorry, why did they never visit her in the hospital? Why did they never visit before the hospital? After?_

_That was when Logan stopped believing people, stopped trusting people, stopped believing promises._

_After the funeral, their house was silent. Logan could hear his father crying every night, every day, and did not know what to do; he had never been one to show emotions to his father before, and the one time he tried to comfort his father, he was told to please leave him alone._

_So Logan sat in his room, surrounded by books, star charts, and models of the galaxy, of a human skeleton, of the structure of an atom, and many more. He sat by his open window, gazing up a telescope, trying to ignore the sound of his father alternating between crying and screaming, his words slurred with alcohol, and tracked the planets and the constellations, and wondered if his mother was now flying among them._

_He took the bus to and from school. He did his homework. He washed his clothes because his mother had shown him how when Logan had asked. He did his best to eat, mainly sandwiches, cereal, and fruit, all of which his father’s brother Robert kept stocked in the house. There was other food, too, for Joshua, but Logan never saw him eat it; a lot of it, when he saw it had gone bad, Logan would throw away._

_Sometimes when Logan got home from school, his father was not home. Sometimes, he would not come home until late that night or early the following morning. He always stunk of alcohol and unwashed human, his eyes red from crying and whatever alcohol he had been drinking. Robert tried a few times to help out, to get his brother to sober up and shower. Those always ended is shouting matches Logan wished he did not have to listen to._

_Three months later his father left him with Robert and his son Roman, saying he had a business trip. Roman was… boisterous. And Loud. Logan tried ignoring him, choosing to read as opposed to watching yet another Disney movie. But Roman never seemed to get a clue, and finally got Logan to crack a grin when he attempted to use a broom handle like a sword – they were watching Peter Pan – and the tip hit the moving ceiling fan above them and it sent Roman careening into the sofa._

_Logan was a little more relaxed around Roman after that, and Roman, in turn, put up with Logan wanting to watch the occasional Discovery program and was even interested in some, such as archeology, weather, and some of the ones about history._

_Three days later, two police officers were at the door. They spoke in low tones to Robert for several minutes before leaving. When he came and found them in the living room watching a program about tornados, Logan immediately knew something was wrong._

_“Roman, give Logan and I a minute, please.” Robert had said, his voice soft and strained._

_Roman, for once, did not argue and left with a worried look at his father and cousin. Once Roman had gone into his room, Robert had sighed heavily and sunk onto the couch next to Logan. “Logan, your dad… there was an accident. They’re… still trying to figure out what happened. But Logan… he didn’t make it.” His voice broke. “Joshua… my brother… your dad… he’s gone. I’m so sorry…”_

_Logan did not cry as Robert embraced him. He did not cry at the funeral where the same people came up to him just as they had at his mother’s funeral and expressed sympathy before moving on to talk amongst themselves. Roman stayed at his side amazingly quiet, and held his hand. For once Logan let him, taking comfort from his cousin as his brain struggled to understand._

_“I heard he did it on purpose,” someone out of his sight whispered. “He just couldn’t stand losing Lilliana. Her death… I think he died the day he buried her. He just couldn’t stand being away from her and drove off that bridge.”_

_“I heard that, too. My sister’s Mate is a crime scene tech, and everything points to suicide.” The speaker tutted. “Such a shame, especially leaving his son behind, alone. But they say that can happen with some Soulmates. They’re just so close that they can’t be apart, even if one of them dies, so the other ends up committing suicide.”_

_Suicide. He went home that day and looked the word up in his dictionary. It was then that he cried. Cried for his parents, because he was alone. Because he was scared, and being alone hurt so, so much._

_But if losing people he loved hurt this much, why would he ever want to do it again?_

_It was that day he decided to never, ever go through what his father went through, before and after his mom’s death, wasting away inside bottles of alcohol, not eating or sleeping, broken and dying before actually dying._

_It was that day he decided he would never, ever write to his Soulmate._

_It would be better that way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GODSDAMNIT, TERRENCE!! WHY DIDN'T YOU LET ROMAN GO BACK?!
> 
> Ok but I had to do it ^^
> 
> I tried to keep the flashback of Logan's as mild as I could, since at 16 I literally watched my dad die, and didn't want it to be hard on anyone else who has lost a family member.
> 
> And yay Thomas has a character in this fic finally!
> 
> And if anyone fluent in ASL sees any screw-ups, let me know so I can fix it! Also any mistakes about high school, since I've never been (was homeschooled all the way through high school).
> 
> Thank you! Love y'all ^^


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS!! - Panic attacks, self-harm (cutting and biting), trans-phobic comment, gender-neutral-phobic comments, purposeful mis-gendering, bullying including physical, verbal, and sexual assault. IT GETS DETAILED, please do not read if you will be triggered!

 

Virgil had never created ‘art’ before using the razor, and to be honest he had not really been intending to do so tonight. He had been trying to avoid cutting by drawing on himself after the ice did nothing to help (both suggestions from Patton who had done research to try and help Virgil stop). This time it was a heart on the inside of his right upper arm, torn to pieces by a razor and dripping blood.

It was not helping.

He could not breathe.

He could barely see.

His heartbeat was pounding a death-metal tune inside of his chest.

His ears were roaring, and the sounds of the sleet/snow mixture hitting the window and the rattling of the wind were _so godsdamn loud._

And then there was his mind.

_They’re right! You’re useless._

_Low-life Common._

_You don’t deserve to live here._

_You should be out on the streets._

_Whore._

_Soulless._

_Patton hates you._

_They all hate you._

_Pity project._

_They don’t need or want you around._

_You should just die._

_They hate you._

_Even your_ Soulmate _hates you!_

_They would be all happier with you gone!_

_You should leave._

_Die._

_Better that way._

On and on and on it went until finally, _finally_ , pain drew Virgil out of his mind.

Blood was on his clothes, the floor, and his skin.                                                                             

There was a razor clutched in his left hand, which was also covered in blood.

The drawing he had done was now distorted and barely visible under the blood.

He had traced the design non-too gently with the blade; it was going to be there forever.

_Shit, shit, shit, what have I done, they’re going to see, they’re going to know! What am I going to do…_

The panic was starting to grow again.

 _Think,_ he ordered himself, biting his hand in an attempt to calm down. _Clean up!_

Virgil’s hands were shaking as he unearthed gauze, butterfly bandages, baby wipes, and medical tape. The gauze squares were used to wipe up as much blood as he could and tossed into the waiting trash bag. The wounds still bled as Virgil used the butterfly strips to hold the sides of skin together where he had gone deeper than he should have, and band-aids were used on the rest wherever possible. More blood was wiped up with gauze and the baby wipes. Carefully Virgil placed gauze squares over all of the wounds – even the ones covered by band-aids – before ripping strips of tape to secure the gauze in place.

Patton was going to be so mad…

Patton.

Shit.

Virgil wiped the blood off his hands and snatched up his tablet and tapped the screen on.

There were two messages from Patton.

**From: Patton. Received 5:02PM : Done with Drama! We’re going to Apple’s Diner. Want anything? Should be home around 630! xoxo**

**From: Patton. Received 5:26PM : You must be taking a nap. Good, you need it! Anyway, I’ve ordered the oriental chicken salad you like for you. See you at home! Love you! Xoxo**

Be home around 6:30.

Virgil looked at the time: it was 6:13.

Shit.

Virgil turned off the little battery-operated lantern and threw the sweatshirt down to the flood of his room before gathering up the trash bag and hurrying down the ladder, wincing as the new wounds tugged painfully; he would worry about the blood on the floor another day.

He crawled through the opening in his wall, dragging the bag and sweatshirt after him and secured the three boards back in place. Getting up he dashed to his closet, tearing off his blood-spotted clothes and tossing them into a pile in the middle of his room as he changed into sweatpants and a hoodie.

_They can’t know Patton can’t know have to hide hide hide it hide it how how he can’t know…_

Looking around frantically, Virgil’s eyes alighted on his half-full laundry basket. Deciding that would be best, he stuffed his bloody clothes into it and placed the garbage bag on top and carried it down the stairs to the main level. He left the basket in front of the main staircase and picked up the trash bag, heading for the kitchen and then out of the back door which led the entryway and garage.

He was barefoot. This was going to suck.

He opened the door to the outside, shivering as the cold wind and snow blasted him as he stepped outside, trying to ignore the painful cold of the snow under his bare feet as he hurried over to the trash can and tossed the bag in. The only good thing about the weather was it would cover his tracks in pretty short order. Patton usually came in the front as opposed to going around the back, but knowing Virgil’s luck…

He tried to ignore that thought.

Returning to the house he snatched up the laundry basket as descended into the basement to the washing machine. He sprayed some sort of stain remover on all the spots of blood he could find – thankfully he had been wearing dark-colored clothes – before adding liquid detergent and turning the machine on.

Not wanting to be caught downstairs when Patton returned – and sometimes Joan and Talyn would come over – Virgil went back up to his room and turned on the desk and bedside lamps (the lava lamp as well). He did have homework, after all; Intermediate Algebra and English.

Deciding he would rather sit on his bed, Virgil docked his phone and turned on one of his softer playlists and adjusted the pillows at the head of the bed. With a heavy sigh, he placed the tablet where he could see if the screen lit up and opened his math book and associated notebook.

He was half-done with the problems when Patton arrived home at 6:45 thankfully through the front door. Patton did not come up right away, which was odd. When he did come up, he was bearing the chicken oriental salad on one of their plates as well as a just-made bottle (reusable, of course) of peach iced tea.

“V?” Patton knocked on the slightly-open door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Virgil replied softly, looking up from his homework. “How was Drama?”

Patton came over and handed Virgil the salad, placing the tea on the nightstand. “Alright,” he said. “but I…” he hesitated. “I’m quitting.” He said suddenly. “I’m going to tell Mrs. Long tomorrow.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, mouth hanging open. “W-why?!” he asked. “You love Drama! You got into it because Roman does it, and you like it, too. What happened?”

Patton sat on the bed briefly before getting back up and pacing, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face Virgil. “Because Mrs. Long told us a new student would be joining us next week,” he said through clenched teeth.

Dread pooled in Virgil’s stomach. “Who?” but he had a feeling he already knew who.

“Pansy.”

Yup. Damn it.

“Just because she’s joining Drama doesn’t mean you need to quit, Pat,” Virgil told him quietly, motioning for him to come over to the bed. “Maybe… maybe she’s changed.”

Patton scoffed. “Yeah, and I no longer hate carrots.” He shook his head. “No. I refuse to be in anything with her or any of them if I don’t have to.”

Virgil’s chest hurt: this was all his fault. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Will you… will you at least give her a chance? I don’t want you to give up something you enjoy because what happened to me back then.” He seized one of Patton’s hands. “Please?”

Patton stared at Virgil for several long moments, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Fine.” He said suddenly. “One chance. And if they do anything to you, I’m quitting. Roman will understand, too.”

It was a partial victory. Virgil would take it. “Thank you.”

Patton nodded and sighed. “Let me go grab my backpack,” he replied. “I have some homework to do – well, one. That open-ended English paper!” he threw his hands up in the air. “‘It can be anything,’ he quoted. ‘Up to three pages. Short story, fiction, non-fiction, a song, a dream you’ve had. Anything at all.’” Patton made a face. “I don’t know what to write! And it’s due _tomorrow!_ I am so screwed!”

Virgil was picking at the salad. “Why don’t you just write out an excerpt from your Manga? The modern-day magic-using ninjas?”

Patton’s face went from panicked to thoughtful. “I… never thought about that. I think I will! Be right back!” He dashed off, pounding down the stairs like a herd of elephants only to slip somewhere near the bottom and fall the rest of the way down.

“I’m good!”

Virgil shook his head and took a bite of the salad; he had not eaten at all since breakfast, and if he did not at least eat part of the salad Patton would worry, and a worried Patton asked questions Virgil did not want to be asked because then he would have to lie.

Patton came back up almost ten minutes later toting his backpack and a vanilla shake with two straws. He held it out to Virgil. “Vanilla with marshmallows!” he announced. “I decided we needed a dessert to get through our homework tonight.”

Virgil had to chuckle; Patton had such a terrible sweet tooth it was a surprise he was not losing teeth to countless cavities. But he did not even have one – it helped that he brushed his teeth every time he ate, even after a snack – otherwise who knew how his grin would look.

Virgil obligingly took a sip of the concoction while Patton dashed into his room and fetched his laptop and a pillow before bouncing onto Virgil’s bed and making himself comfortable, even stealing the Hufflepuff throw from the foot of Virgil’s bed to cover both of their legs, his phone nearby in case Roman texted him – when they had both turned sixteen both Roman and Patton’s parents had agreed to allow them to have each other’s cell phone numbers – and settled in to do the English paper.

It was almost eight-thirty when Virgil finished the math problems and rewrote them without all of the scratch-outs from when he had realized he was doing the problem wrong or had messed it up somehow. He shook his cramping hand and stole a glance at his brother; Patton was leaning against the wall, fingers flying on the keyboard as he wrote (and rewrote) the intro pages of his Manga into nothing but words. Deciding his own paper could do with a review he got up and grabbed the detached keyboard.

His paper was a song he was writing for The Unseen currently titled ‘The Song of El’. He was fairly happy with it, but anything could always use a few tweaks…

At some point, though, he fell asleep and for once he did not wake up from nightmares, not even once. Cutting sometimes did that, as if he had bled out anything bad for a little while. He tried not to revert to that too much, because then Patton would catch on, and would worry, and if Patton worried too much Virgil was concerned that his brother would tell their parents.

Too bad certain people had other plans.

OoOoO

“Patton and Virgil Sanderson, please stay after class,” Mr. Honig asked as the bell rang, raising his voice to be heard over the shuffle of papers and feet. “I know the two of you have a free period now, but I promise it will only take a few minutes.”

Virgil and Patton stayed where they were until the majority of the students had exited the room, handing in the randomized editing test Mr. Honig had handed out before they even started to pack up their belongings.

Mr. Honig shut the door as the last student left the room and turned to face the brothers. “I just wanted to let you know how impressed I am with both of you,” he said, but was also – clumsily – signing. “Patton, your Manga” he finger-spelled Manga “sounds very intriguing. I hope to one day see it on my daughters’ shelves.” He turned his attention to Virgil. “Your song… very different, rhyming every line. Are you in a band?”

Virgil hesitated; it was a good day, and Mr. Honig was very kind. But to tell the man who had been teaching them for years that he could speak, but just chose not to because of his anxiety and depression? Would he be mad? Tell the other teachers? He glanced over at Patton, who nodded.

“I – I can talk, Mr. Honig.” He whispered. “I just…” he hesitated again, unsure of how to explain himself. “I really appreciate you learning to sign, but – I just – I am – “ he stopped; his ears were ringing, and the lights were too bright.

And then Patton was there. “Breathe, V,” he whispered, stepping in front of Virgil, leaning their foreheads together. “It’s ok.”

Mr. Honig waited patiently until Virgil was at least somewhat able to collect himself. “You have severe anxiety, I take it?” he asked calmly.

Virgil nodded, not trusting his voice.

“So not talking, not drawing any attention to yourself and your status to the bullies in this school, this is what you do?” Mr. Honig leaned forwards, hands clasped loosely. “I may not completely understand, but if it is what helps you, then I will keep your secret.” He leaned back. “It is not my secret to share.”

Virgil breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr. Honig,” he said and signed.

Mr. Honig smiled. “Know that my door is always open to both of you, understand? And Virgil,” he added, “when you and your friends start your band, let me know.”

Today was a good day.

OoOoO

Martha and Daniel were, as expected, furious that the bullies had gotten Virgil’s number yet again and decided to buy him a pre-pay phone that they activated themselves so no one else was involved; so far, it was working. No one Virgil did not want to have his number was texting him. Since they could not unblock the numbers Virgil had been getting the threatening messages from there was no way to report the students sending them; even the Salazar’s lawyers said there was nothing to do, but one of them was working with a ‘contact’ to try and track down at least who had purchased the phones sending the messages but so far had not heard back from them.

And then two days later became Virgil’s worst day since his birth parents beat him within an inch of his life and dumped him at the hospital.

Patton had Drama again after school, taking his promise to Virgil seriously, and Joan and Talyn were taking a long test in one of their A.P. Computer courses. Virgil was on his way to the library as he usually did when he rounded a corner and two of the janitors cleaning a huge, sticky mess that looked like the results of some weird exploded science experiment involving bubble gum and silly string off the floor and neighboring lockers. The whole hallway was shut down, and Virgil was forced to turn around and take the long way, up to flights of stairs and down multiple hallways in the huge, ancient building.

It was passing the boy’s locker room near the sports auditorium when something black was shoved over his head and a hand clamped itself over his mouth and more hands wrapped themselves around his waist and yanked his body out of the hallway; his bookbag was thrown away as he was dragged into the locker room. He heard the click of the locker room door even as he fought to get free, fought to scream for help, fought _period_.

“He’s more of a fighter than I remember,” a voice said: Martin.

Shit.

The cloth over his head was ripped away as two people seized his arms and prevented his struggling from doing anything; blinking against the tears of panic, Virgil looked around. Deegan was there with his cronies, and they were joined by Martin and Pansy. A knotted bandana was shoved into his mouth and tied tightly behind his head, catching a few hairs in the knot.

Pansy giggled, clapping her hands together. “Ohh, I was soo mad when my parents moved up here for a year because of my dad’s work. But this totally makes up for it!” She bent down to look at Virgil. “Hello, Homeless Soulless! Looks like you’re doing pretty well for yourself!” She slapped him, and his body twisted in the grasp of one of Deegan’s friends.

“He sure doesn’t look homeless anymore, those clothes are almost as nice as ours,” Martin commented, hands in his pockets. “Doing pretty well for yourself, huh? Landing a spot in the Sanderson household. How did you manage _that?”_

“Deegan thinks he whores himself,” said the bully holding Virgil.

“It _is_ the only thing that makes sense,” Martin drawled. “He did it with the math teacher back home in Nebraska to improve his grades, and he was only a kid! Didn’t you, Soulless?”

Virgil shook his head wildly, eyes wide and frantic, seeking any means of escape, his chest heaving as he fought to breathe and not panic.

There were none, not that he could see, anyways. He was too small, too thin, too _weak_ to do anything.

“Liar. I saw how he looked at you, saw how often he kept you back after class.” Pansy sneered. “Did the Sanderson’s buy you from your parents? Do the loan your body out for extra cash to pay for your room and board, whoring out your mouth and ass? Or do they keep you for themselves, a little Soulless cleaning slave and fuck-toy?”

Virgil shook his head again, shaking in the grasp of the bullies.

Deegan walked over and back-handed Virgil, splitting the skin over Virgil’s right brow. “Do not lie!” he spat. “Answer my Pansy!”

My Pansy?

Virgil’s confusion must have shown on his face, because Martin came over, looping an arm around Deegan’s waist. “Pansy and I have taken in Deegan,” he sneered. “He’s ours now and we are his.” He punched Virgil, sending him to his knees; the two bullies let him fall to the ground.

“My Soulmate died a few years ago, thank the gods,” Deegan continued, rolling his eyes. “they were _such_ a little cry-baby and a goody-two-shoes, trying to get me to change and be nice. They were nothing like Martin and Pansy. They understand me; they’re like me.”

Deegan nodded to the bully holding Virgil, who dragged him to his feet and was joined by another bully, each holding one of Virgil’s arms behind his back. Deegan slammed a fist into Virgil’s stomach, over and over until Virgil was gasping, tears streaming down his face from the pain.

The bullies let his drop to the floor.

Martin knelt down, seizing a handful of Virgil’s hair – his beanie had been lost at some point – and hauled him partially upright. “How about you whore yourself right here, right now, to us, and then we’ll let you go.”

 _No_. Virgil shook his head again; he would rather be beaten to death than do… that.

Martin grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He held out his hand back towards Pansy. “Hand me the scissors.”

Pansy dug around in a bag on the bench and handed Martin a pair of huge scissors.

Virgil struggled, feeling the pain of the hair still clenched in Martin’s fist, unidentifiable sounds escaping his mouth past the gag.

“Hold him,” Martin ordered.

The two of the unnamed bullies pinned him to the floor on his back while Martin straddled his chest and a fourth person – Virgil could not see who it was, maybe Pansy, maybe not – pinned his legs down so he could not kick or try and buck off Martin. After a few moments the weight lifted off, but he still could not move his legs.

Martin clamped his free hand around Virgil’s throat, tightening his hand until Virgil was seeing stars, and stopped struggling to get away and just struggled to breathe.

An odd feeling on his head, painful and then lessening.

A clipping noise.

They were cutting his hair off.

Virgil sobbed, choking behind the gag and Martin’s grip on his throat as more and more hair was cut off.

“That’s it!” Pansy cried, clapping her hands. “Take it all off! And then we can start the _real_ fun!”

 “‘o, ‘leas, ‘o,” Virgil begged, finally forcing himself to speak.

“I told you!” Martin crowed, looking back at Deegan, who was standing behind Pansy, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “I told you he spoke!”

Deegan smirked. “So he does; that’s a handy little bit of information. He’s also fighting this more than anything I’ve done to him; I like it. I like it a lot.”

“Mmm, me too.” Martin forced Virgil’s head to the side so he could cut that hair as well. “I love it when the person beneath me struggles.”

Virgil did not understand. At least not until Martin forced his head the other way so he could cut the hair on the opposite side and the bully rocked his hips, grinding into Virgil’s chest.

 _Oh, gods…_ Virgil thought. _They’re… they’re going to… oh, gods please no…_

_At least Patton isn’t here…_

_At least it’s happening to me and not Patton…_

More tears leaked out of Virgil’s eyes. “ ‘lease,” he begged. “ ‘o… don’…”

Martin rocked into his again, and again. “I’ll do to you what I please, you little Soulless whore!” he spat. “And you will lay there and take it! Unless we should go find Patton? Or does he fuck you the way his father and Mr. Henderson do?”

Virgil’s fear spiked. “‘o. lea’ ‘im alo’! ‘lease!”

“Hmph.” Martin snorted, rocking his hips again. “You beg so prettily. Maybe if you beg enough, I’ll change my mind.” He got up on his hands and knees. “Turn him over,” he ordered the bullies pinning Virgil’s arms to the floor. “I need to get at the back of his head.”

The shoved him over and pinned him to the floor again. Martin straddled his back and began snipping off the hair on the back of Virgil’s head.

Virgil, the side of his face shoved in a pile of his own hair – which was sticking to his damp face – was fighting the urge to buck Martin off him, to try and fight his way free, to try and _run,_ run and never, ever stop.

But.

Virgil believed them when they said they would go after Patton the same way they were going after him. And gods, he did not want anything like this to happen to Patton.

The sleeves of his shirt were being tugged.

Virgil struggled again, trying to see what was happening, what they were doing to him now…

They were cutting the sleeves of his sweatshirt and undershirt off at the shoulder on both sides.

“Oh, ha ha ha, check it out!” Martin laughed. “Looks like little Soulless as already begun our work!” He got to his knees again as the bullies rolled Virgil onto his back again and finished cutting the sleeves of Virgil’s shirts off of him. “What’s this?” he asked as he began tearing the bandage off Virgil’s upper arm to reveal the bleeding heart and razor, only slightly starting to scab over. “Oh, how lovely,” he spat, grinning, slapping the healing wounds until they started to bleed again. “Maybe next time you should cut deeper. Hey guys – oh, sorry to interrupt.”

Behind them, Pansy had Deegan pinned to the lockers and they were making out quite heavily, hands tangled in each other’s hair. Finally, Deegan tugged on her hair to get her to stop. “What was that?” Deegan asked blandly.

Martin pointed at the scars on Virgil’s arms. “He’s already started,” he repeated. “But there’s still plenty of room for us.”

Deegan kissed Pansy one more time before coming over, digging something from his pocket. “I’ll go first,” he said as knelt down, pulling a razor blade from his pocket. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

Behind them, Pansy giggled and clapped her hands.

The bullies holding Virgil’s arms stretched them out until his body was in a ‘T’ shape; whoever had been holding Virgil’s legs had handcuffed to the post of the bench between the lockers so tight he could not move his legs. All Virgil could do was struggle helplessly.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Deegan hissed at Virgil, lowering the razor to the skin of Virgil’s wrist. “And I’d hold still if I were you; we’d hate to have to go and pay Patton a visit.”

Virgil froze _; no, not Patton_.

Pansy walked over to the wall and turned on the radio and turned up the sound just loud enough to not get into trouble but more than loud enough to mask Virgil’s strangled screams as Deegan started carving into Virgil’s skin and Martin cut the shirts open and exposed Virgil’s chest.

“Wait,” Pansy said suddenly before Deegan could get very far. “Let’s blindfold him!”

“He already knows it’s us,” Deegan scoffed. “what’s the point in blind-folding him?”

“Yeah,” Pansy replied, walking her fingers across the lockers, he voice taking on a singalong tone. “ _But_ , think of how much more it’ll freak little Soulless out if he can’t see what we’re doing?”

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Martin said, getting to his feet and kissing her. “Got something we can use, babe?”

Pansy’s replying grin was full of malice. “Use the bandana. I found something better to use for the gag.” She vanished from view for a moment. When she returned, she was carrying a most likely dirty jock strap.

“That’s _disgusting!_ ” one of the bullies said.

“That’s the point.” She tossed it at him. “Gag him with that and blindfold him with the bandana.”

The bully did as he was told, pulling the bandana out of Virgil’s mouth and slid it up so it covered his eyes; then he shoved the supporter into Virgil’s mouth and tied it behind his head.

Now completely blind, Virgil was sobbing as Deegan returned to cutting into his arm, slow and methodical. He screamed through the horridly-smelling and tasting material as the razor bit into him over and over again. Martin was back on top of him and he could feel the other teen’s erection through his jeans.

_Gods, what else were they going to do…_

The pain of them cutting him could have handled; it was more than he had ever done to himself, but the… he could not even put it into words. The very real possibility of being assaulted. _.._ panic and shame were growing inside of Virgil’s mind, in every cell of his body… he wanted to die, laying there on the cold tile floor, blood running down his arms with Martin on top of him.

_Gods, let me die let me die let me die…_

This was the worst panic attack he had ever had, and yet he could not pass out. He felt so disgusting laying there on the floor, not fighting back, not doing a damned thing but cry and bleed.

And then they switched to the other arm; he could feel not only the bully pinning that arm down but also Pansy’s nails digging into his skin as she started cutting him as well.

Blood kept spilling down his arms, warm against the cool tile floor, leaving tacky trails in their wake. His tears were soaking the blindfold, and he had somehow grown used to the nastiness of the jock strap.

Martin got off Virgil’s chest as Pansy continued cutting him, calling Deegan over; Virgil did not need to be able to see to know they were making out they were so loud.

“There!” Pansy announced. “All finished!”

Footsteps.

“Looks good,” Deegan commented. “Now no one will think he’s a normal Common or Elite with a Mate. Everyone will know exactly what he is and treat him as he should be!”

A kick to the ribs; Virgil could barely manage a groan of pain he was so blind with panic.

“Boys,” Pansy said. “why don’t you two finish what Martin was never able to finish back in Nebraska before you go on to… anything else.”

_No… no no no no no please no…_

One of the boys laughed. “Sounds good to me,” Martin spat. “Move his arms up to that other bench and tie him up there.”

A zipper; something small and probably plastic landed up by the two bullies who were holding down his arms. Next thing Virgil knew his upper body was being jerked sideways and his arms were raised above his head, and something thin was looped around his wrists and tightened, fastening his wrists to the next bench’s metal post.

Footsteps. Another zipper. The sound of clothing moving.

“‘lease, ‘o, ‘ _lease! ‘lease ‘don!_ ” Virgil begged through the gag, struggling against whatever was binding his wrists, lungs burning because he could not breathe, he could not breathe _why couldn’t he breathe?!_

“But we _owe_ this to you, Soulless!” Martin said above Virgil. “Not to mention it’s what a disgusting Soulless whore like you deserves!” he paused. “You two, get out of here,” he added. “The rest of this is personal for us. Get out.”

Two footsteps leaving.

And then…

Liquid. Wet. A smell.

Urine.

Virgil choked, sobbing, his voice raw and pleading words that could no longer be understood past the gag as one of the boys urinated on him, spraying onto his bare chest and running down his sides, absorbing into his dissected clothing.

_Why why why why me why what did I do stop stop stop stop please stop please stop why no please don’t please don’t I want to die I want to die…_

“Well, that was refreshing,” Deegan said. “But I believe you had mentioned… something else, Martin? Hmm?”

Pansy giggled; Martin chuckled. “That I did.”

A belt being undone; a zipper.

“Ohh,” Pansy sighed. “I love your cock, Martin.”

Virgil struggled harder, fighting and tugging at the thin plastic that was holding his hands to the bench and utterly refused to break. The metal of the handcuffs was biting deep into his bare ankles – when had he lost his shoes and socks?? – but he did not care he had to get free he had to run he had to hide he had to _die…_

Someone kicked his ribs again. “ _Stop struggling,_ ” Deegan growled. “Or should we go find Patton? Or maybe Joan? Wonder what the mute sounds like when he screams.” He paused. “Or there’s the bitch on wheels. Not like she could run away from us.”

“Disgusting Nobles,” Pansy spat, trailing the razor over Virgil’s bare, urine coated chest. “There are boys, and there are girls. Not this ‘gender-neutral-‘ bullshit. And the oldest girl is now a ‘boy’. Fucking trannies.”

Martin moaned. “Let him struggle,” he said. “not like he’s going anywhere. Besides, Pansy, I need your mouth over here for a moment. I seem to be a little dry.”

Deegan snorted on the other side of Virgil. “Don’t want to be chaffed, huh love?” he said. “I’ve found soap works just as well.”

A pop of a lid.

A plastic bottle clattering away on the floor.

A half-naked body straddled him. “Struggle all you want,” Deegan hissed, rocking his hips against Virgil’s stomach over and over, his crotch and cock sliding on Virgil's stomach. “But try and get away, and what we have done to you will be so small compared to what we’ll do to your friends!”

Virgil did not fully remember a lot after that.

His mind was in full-on panic attack mode, shrieking words at him, repeating what the bullies were saying, blaming him and pushing him to the edge.

_Soulless!_

_Worthless!_

_Whore!_

_You deserve this!_

_Burden!_

_Disgusting!_

_Useless!_

_Die!_

On and on and on it went, spiraling out of control – not that it ever was to begin with – and growing louder and yet soft enough he could still hear every word, every grunt and moan from Deegan, Martin, and Pansy. He could still _feel_ everything: the cold tile, the sticky blood, the dampness from the urine; he could feel Deegan on top of him, hot and wet and moving and _loud_.

He wanted to die.

He wanted them to kill him.

If they did not, he would.

OoOoO

Patton found Joan waiting for him outside of the theater with Thomas, who was pacing worriedly.

“Hey, guys! How did your test go?” he asked as he came over to them.

//Fine,\\\ Joan signed distractedly. //We have problem. Virgil missing. Not in library. Talyn speak with teachers, ask help with search. Saw Deegan, friends earlier, they laughing.\\\

Dread pooled in Patton’s stomach; Pansy had missed the first Drama class she would have been in, and now Virgil was also missing. This was not good.

“Had Mr. Honig seen him in the library at all?” Patton asked, digging out his phone.

//No. I ask.\\\

Patton hurriedly entered the passcode into his phone and opened up an app. “Virgil and I install an app on our phones in case the bullies ever stole his phone so we could find it,” Patton explained as the app loaded. “We tried it out in the house, and it was pretty accurate.” The screen opened, showing a satellite view of the school and a blinking blue dot where they were standing and another purple dot on the far side. “Looks like he’s over by the lacrosse field and indoor track,” Patton said, showing Joan and Thomas.

“I’ll go let Talyn and the teachers know, and we’ll come find you,” Thomas said, flapping his hand at the two teenagers. “Go find Virgil.”

Joan and Patton took off at a run down the halls, skidding on a wet floor – totally ignoring the wet floor signs even when Patton tripped over one – and kept going. Thankfully, most of the student and faculty were already gone.

They found Virgil’s bag – containing his cell phone – discarded in the hallway outside of the indoor track and locker rooms, its contents scattered on the floor.

“Virgil?” Patton called. “It’s us, where are you?” he tried the door closest to him and found it locked.

They tried the rest of the classroom doors but they were all locked, as was the door to the track.

That left the locker room.

Patton pushed the door open. “V?” he asked softly. “you in here?”

Joan followed him in, going left when Patton went right and started checking the toilet stalls for a hiding Virgil – something he had done before, more than once – but all the doors were open and the stalls were empty. Before he could go and check the showers a strangled shout – what Joan did to get attention when they were out of sight – made Patton spin around and run over to the locker area.

He found Joan cutting black plastic ties that were holding Virgil’s hands around one of the metal bench supports, crying as he did so. A bandana and a jock strap were tossed to the side.

Virgil was unconscious; there was blood – so much blood – on his arms and pooling and smeared on the floor around his body. He had a black eye, and drying blood was on his face from a split lip and a cut above his eye. The arms of his sweatshirt had been completely cut off, and someone had cut up the center of his shirt and hoodie, leaving his chest bare; bruises were starting to form on his pale skin. There were more, thin and fine cuts there, but there was also the smell of urine. His hair and been unevenly chopped off, scattered around his head from struggling and who knows what else.

There was also what looked suspiciously like cum painting his bare chest.

“Virgil!” Patton screamed, running over and dropping to his knees. “Virgil please –” he went to pick up Virgil but Joan grabbed his arms to stop him.

//Get help,\\\ he signed. //No move V. no idea what injuries. Could hurt him more. Get help!\\\

Gulping air, Patton looked down at his brother, wanting nothing more than to hold him and tell him everything was ok.

But that would not help Virgil; Virgil needed help. He needed medical help. He needed their _parents_.

“Stay with him,” said Patton, his voice shaking. “I’ll be right back!” He took one last look at Virgil’s tear-streaked face and took off, heart racing and tears streaming down his face.

He did not have far to go. Talyn and Thomas were only three hallways away.

“What happened?!” Talyn cried when they saw Patton’s tear-streaked face and bloody hands. “Is Virgil hurt?”

Patton was crying. “They… they cut him! He’d tied up in the boy’s locker! He’s bleeding, he’s unconscious!” he tried to breathe. “The peed on him, and…” he couldn’t say it. “He needs help!”

Thomas already had his phone out. “I’m calling 911,” he said. “Call your parents and get let them know what’s going on. And get back to Virgil! If someone tries to bother you guys, hit them, kick them, whatever, but defend yourselves and protect Virgil!”

Patton pulled out his phone as he ran, Talyn keeping pace with him in their wheelchair. He dialed his mom first, but it went right to voicemail, signaling she was in a meeting. “Shit!” Patton swore, skidding around the last corner. Dialing his dad next, he held open the door for Talyn.

“Hey, Patton! What’s – ”

“Bullies hurt Virgil!” Patton interrupted, dropping to his knees next to Virgil; behind him, Talyn gasped, hands clamped over their mouth. “It’s bad, dad! They cut his hair, they cut up his arms and he’s unconscious!” He sobbed. “He’s hurt, dad. They peed on him, too!”

The swear words coming through the speaker were plentiful. “Call 911,” Daniel ordered. “Tell them to bring Virgil to Healing Hands, I’ll be waiting in the ER for you.”

“Thomas is already calling them,” replied Patton. “I’ll tell them when they get here we need to go to you.” He paused. “Dad… I think… I think…” his voice broke again. “I think they… sexually assaulted him, too. There’s cum on his chest.”

Daniel was silent on the other end of the line; then something crashed. Voices Patton could not understand were speaking to Daniel.

“Don’t… don’t clean Virgil off,” Daniel said through gritted teeth. “We’ll need it as evidence to get them arrested.”

Patton sniffed. “Ok, dad.” He whispered. “Don’t clean him off,” he told Joan. “Dad said they’ll need… all this… as evidence.”

Joan nodded, the muscles of their jaw ticking.

A siren wailed outside by the lacrosse field; they must have driven on the grass. The president of the school would not be happy.

Fuck her.

Joan got up and went out, signaling to the EMTs where they were. They followed Joan back in, one man and one woman, carrying medical supplies and a back brace.

“Step back, please,” the woman said. “We’ll take care of him now.”

“We need to go to Healing Hands,” Patton told them hurriedly. “Our dad works there. Please, help him, we need to get to our dad!”

“You got it,” the man said as he used a bolt cutter to cut the chain between the handcuffs on Virgil’s ankles, leaving the cuffs where they were; there was more blood on his ankles from them, Patton noticed.

The woman was taking Virgil’s pulse after putting telfa pads in the wounds on Virgil’s forearms; the man was getting the stretcher in place next to Virgil’s body.

“They’re here, dad,” Patton said into his phone. “They’re going to take us to you.”

“Good. I’ll see you then. Stay with him, son. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Patton pocketed the phone.

“Talyn, Joan, let’s go,” Thomas said as he put his own phone away. “I’ve let your parents know what’s going on and they’re going to leaving Chicago right now and meet us there. We’ll take our car and head over to the hospital now so we can hopefully be there when Virgil and Patton get there. I’ll come back for your school things tomorrow.”

Joan hesitated. //You be ok?\\\ they asked. //Need me stay?\\\

Patton shook his head. “No. Get there and tell my dad what we found.”

As the trio left, three police officers came in; one black, two Hispanic. “What happened here?” one of them asked Patton, eyeing Virgil.

“Bullies attacked my brother!” Patton shouted at them. “You have got to find them and make them pay!”

The black officer held out his hand. “We will do everything we can,” he said. “No one should suffer through that,” he looked over at Virgil; the woman EMT was gently rolling Virgil onto his side so the other EMT could slide the backboard underneath him. “you just stay with your brother; he needs you right now. Heard you’re going to Healing Hands?”

Patton nodded.

“Good. Ok. We will send a unit there to ask questions. But for right now, go with your brother.”

Unable to speak, Patton nodded and followed the EMTs into the hallway where a wheeling gurney was waiting. They set the backboard on the stretcher and wheeled Virgil out of the building. Patton joined them in the ambulance, reaching out to take one of Virgil’s bloody hands.

“I’m right here, V. I promise.” His voice broke. “I – I should have been there with you! This is my fault, I’m so sorry.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand, rocking a little as the ambulance pulled out of the school’s parking lot and took off, sirens blaring. “Come back to me, V. I love you. I love you so, so much. I’m never leaving you again, I promise. Never, ever, ever.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was ok and not too violent... it is actually milder than the original. I felt it was too violent and completely re-wrote it.
> 
> Don't hate me for what I did to V!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: panic attack, mention of self-harm, cutting, bullying, assault both physical and sexual

 

Patton did not let go of Virgil’s hand all the way to the hospital as the ambulance screamed through the streets of Madison, sirens blaring. The EMT in the back had to change the pads on the wounds on Virgil’s arms again before they reached the hospital; during the change, Patton thought he saw part of a letter briefly before the EMT applied the next pad. One of the times as they made a turn Patton almost fell off the narrow ledge he was perched on and had to catch himself on the gurney, not that he really noticed; he kept his gaze focused on Virgil, and his breathing, the bruises and cuts, the paleness of his skin – and avoiding looking at the ‘substance’ other than blood on his chest.

Virgil, who normally had a pretty pale complexion before he applied makeup, looked whiter than the snow the weather report said they were due to get. His eyeliner was severely smudged from being blindfolded and marking multiple tear tracks down his cheeks and temples. The rest of his face was hidden under an oxygen mask. His bare chest was rising and falling shallowly, still sticky with substances Patton was trying very hard not to think about and failing.

_Please, gods, let him have been unconscious for that part…_

He wanted them dead; no, he wanted them to suffer the same fate, over and over, and _then_ kill them, _slowly_. He had never wanted someone dead before – not even Virgil’s previous parents, though the hate he was feeling was not new. If the law would not punish them – he suspected Deegan, Pansy, and Martin if not their friends as well, all from very rich Elite families who could hire the best lawyers their money could buy – he would damned-well find a fucking way to deal out justice himself.

“We’re pulling up right now! They’re waiting for us!” called the driver.

As soon as the ambulance stopped moving the doors were thrown open. Daniel was there, jaw clenched as the EMT eased the gurney out towards him and the nurses.

“Get him into Suite Two,” Daniel ordered. “Get multiple samples of the substances on his chest but don’t send them all to the lab. Get his clothes off of him and bag them, send parts to the lab as well but keep some back; I’m not having a repeat of what happened to us before with these bastards. We need to stitch up the wounds and get both a Saline drip and a blood transfusion ready as soon as we can get IV ports in.”

The nurses and another doctor wheeled the unconscious Virgil away. Patton went to follow them but Daniel stopped him. “You’ll only get in our way, son,” he said gently. “I was able to get a message to Martha and she’ll be here shortly. You remember where the staff break room is, right?”

Patton nodded silently.

“Go there and wait for her. I’ll keep you both updated, I promise. The police will want to speak with you at some point, I suspect.” He pressed a quick kiss to Patton’s forehead. “And you know what? Call Roman. If he parents have a problem I’ll speak with them and explain that you needed to speak with him.”

“Ok,” Patton replied, his voice shaking. “Joan, and Talyn and Thomas, they’re coming! Can they – ”

“I’ll have someone bring them to meet you, I promise. Now go!”

Patton found his way to the break room on autopilot; thankfully, it was empty. He reached to pull his phone out of his pocket but stopped, staring down at his hands.

Blood.

Bile rose in the back of his throat.

He barely made it into the single bathroom before vomiting into the toilet, his stomach heaving violently between sobs, and finally a choked cry.

His glasses were removed from his face; someone was leaning against him silently with their arms wrapped around him, and a hand was carding fingers through his hair and another was on his shoulder.

Talyn and Joan.

“He’ll be ok,” Talyn murmured, their voice breaking. “We’ll help him get there, I promise. We’ll protect him.”

“B-but we didn’t!” Patton sobbed, clinging to the toilet. “We w-weren’t there for him! I didn’t protect him! I kn-new it was only a matter of time until they went after him! I sh-should have forced him to come with me, or s-skipped Drama!”

Joan tightened their grip around him, making a ‘no’ sound in the back of their throat.

“You know he would have said he’d be fine,” Talyn replied softly. “he would have sent you to Drama and gone to the library, just as he always does.” They sniffed. “From now on, we won’t let us get separated. Ever.”

Patton reached up and flushed the toilet. Joan helped him to his feet, his glasses in their hand. Once they were sure Patton could stand on his own, they signed //I agree with Talyn; no more separate. We make them pay. Bad. Promise.\\\

Thomas was waiting in the break room with a cup of water and a box of tissues. “We saw them taking Virgil into one of the Suites,” he said as he handed the water over. “Looked like they had a lot of staff in there; I’m sure between them and your dad they’ll get him patched up and cleaned up in no time. And we will be there afterward.”

Patton reached for the water and stopped. The blood was still on his hands. “Be right back,” he murmured. He returned to the bathroom and began scrubbing at the blood on his hands, dried on his skin and in his nail beds. It was then that it finally dawned on him that the skin on his arms was tingling: Roman.

He was able to get most of the blood off his hands; he ignored the blood on his hands, which must have soaked in when he had knelt down in the locker room next to Virgil.

That realization brought on a flood of images of Virgil tied there, bleeding, partially naked, beaten and bruised and –

Patton forced his mind to stop. He did not want to think about what he and Joan had found, but there was no real way he could avoid it. And from the looks on his friend’s faces, they could not, either.

“Dad said I could call Roman,” he said, voice rough as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Do you want us to leave?” Talyn asked. “Do you want some privacy?”

Patton shook his head. “No. Please stay,” he said softly. He grabbed one of the hard chairs and pulled it so he was next to his friends. Taking a deep breath, he hit ‘dial’ next to Roman’s name.

OoOoO

Roman was pacing. And pacing.

Patton had promised he would text him once he was done with Drama.

That had been two hours ago.

Patton never, ever broke a promise.

Roman was sorely tempted to call him – something both of their parents had banned them to do until they were legal adults – and yell at him, make sure he was ok, just _something_ other than this endless pacing and worrying.

“Is it possible he left his Drama class because he or Virgil are sick?” Logan asked, looking up from his A.P. Psychology textbook.

“It is,” Roman admitted, coming to a halt in the middle of the room and pulling his cell phone once again out of his pocket. “but he would have let me know, even if it was ‘sick will talk later’.”

“Perhaps he lost his phone,” Logan continued. “Have you not told me before that bullies have targeted Virgil this way? Perhaps they have done the same to Patton.”’

“Then he would have _written_ to me!” Roman exploded, throwing his hands up in the air and almost dropping his phone and had to do a weird dance to catch it. “He would have let me know! He would have used Virgil’s phone!”

Logan sighed. “Have _you_ tried writing to _him?_ He would then feel the writing on his skin and respond to you?”

Roman’s eyes lit up. He smacked himself on the forehead, jumped onto the sofa next to Logan and hugged him before bouncing over to his backpack. “It’s so simple! We’re so used to using our phones we don’t really use pens anymore!”

Logan shook his head and returned to his reading as Roman rolled up his sleeve and set to writing. He was worried something worse had happened because Roman did have a point; the two Soulmates were rarely out of contact and if something would prevent said – phone – contact then they would inform the other as to why and an estimated time. The fact that had not happened this time had the logical teen worried for his cousin and his Mate, and his Mate’s friend, too.

A little while later, Roman was pacing again, his arms covered in ‘hey!’ ‘everything ok’ ‘please reply!’ ‘I’m worried’ ‘PATTON!!” and more.

“He’s still not answering!” Roman shouted. “What else could prevent him from replying, hmm? What if he’s been in a car accident? What if he fell in Drama and hit his head? What if –”

On the end table Roman’s phone was ringing; the screen was lit up with the name ‘Patton’.

“Oh, no,” Roman moaned. He dove for the phone. “Patton? Patton? Are you there? Hello? Hell – ” he went silent.

Logan watched as Roman’s red face went white. Then his legs gave out from underneath him and he collapsed onto the living room floor, a hand over his mouth.

Logan set aside his book and joined his cousin on the floor, motioning ‘what’s going on?!’ as he did so.

Roman said, “Patton, Patton, love, I’m putting you on speaker. Logan’s here and worried, too.” He tilted the phone until the screen lit up and turned on speakerphone.

“You said the bullies attacked Virgil in the locker room?” Roman said. “All I got was that and that he’s in the hospital. What happened?!”

On the other end of the line, Patton was sobbing. “They – they tied him up between two benches. They… they cut his hair. They beat him and cut his arms up – there was blood everywhere, Roman! He was unconscious... They peed on him, too, and – and…” his voice broke.

Roman had tears pouring down his face as he listened to his Mate break down states away from him in a hospital after finding his brother brutally attacked. “Will…” Roman had to clear his throat before he asked, “will he be ok?”

“I… I don’t know,” replied Patton, sniffling. “Dad’s taking care of him, but…” he seemed to be hesitating.

Logan said quietly, “Something else happened to Virgil, didn’t it?”

Patton completely broke down, cries harsh and loud.

“Roman? This is Talyn, do you know who I am?” a voice asked.

Roman sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yes,” he replied. “You’re Patton and Virgil’s friend and Joan’s Soulmate.”

There was some shuffling. “Yes,” they replied. “Joan’s with Patton right now. As for what else happened to Virgil besides being beaten, cut up, and peed on…” they hesitated. “There was also… semen… on his chest.”

Roman exploded. “Are they in jail?!” he shouted, getting to his feet. “Tell me they’re in jail! Tell me they’re going to _rot_ in there!”

“Since Patton and Joan found Virgil after the bullies left, and Virgil’s unconscious, we don’t know who attacked him yet until the DNA results come back in, and Virgil is awake again and can tell us who attacked him.”

“But you guys have a good guess as to who it was,” Roman asked, his whole body shaking.

“Yes. We do.” They paused, saying something too muffled for either boy to hear. “Patton’s going to talk to you guys again.”

“Roman?” Patton’s voice was thick. “I can’t… do you think he… do you think V’ll ever forgive me?”

Roman tucked away his rage. “None of what happened is your fault, love,” he replied softly. “they undoubtedly ganged up on him because it was the only way they could take your brother on, while you were in Drama class. This was how they two of you always did things: You went to Drama and he went to the library. I know Virgil won’t blame you, not in the least.”

It sounded like Patton sat down. “ _I_ blame me,” he whispered. “I don’t… I hope he understands how… how…” he sniffed. “I feel horrible.”

Roman reached out in front of him, as if if he willed hard enough, he could reach through the phone and touch Patton, brush away his tears and hold him tightly.

And then find the people who had done this to Virgil and beat the living hells out of them.

OoOoO

Patton and Roman were still on the phone – Roman was trying to distract Patton and the others with stories about the dogs at the animal shelter where he volunteered – when Daniel and Martha finally joined them, their faces a matching mixture of rage, grief, and exhaustion.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson,” Roman said formally. “Thank you for allowing Patton to call me.”

Daniel sat down with a sigh. “Thank you for being there for my son and his friends,” he replied. “But now I must ask you to hang up: I need to talk to my son.”

“Ok, but, just – how is Virgil?”

“He’s alive,” Martha told them all. “We sutured the wounds and cleaned him up. No bones were broken, luckily. He’ll be unconscious for a while, though. After he wakes up I’m afraid the wounds inside will turn out to be much worse than the physical.”

Roman sighed. “Keep me – us – updated, love, alright? We’re worried.”

“I will,” Patton replied. “Love you.”

“Love you!”

Once the phone call had been disconnected, Patton looked up expectantly at his parents.

Daniel dragged his hands over his face. “It took us some time to stitch up the wounds on his arms,” he said finally. “how the wounds were… it was difficult.”

“What do you mean?” Patton asked, his brow furrowed.

“First off, it looks like Virgil’s been… hurting himself for a while now; did you know about that?” asked Martha.

Patton hesitation lasted only a moment: yes, he had promised not to tell their parents, but he had also told his brother he would not lie if asked directly.

But that did not mean he had to reveal the true extent – not that they had not seen the wounds – of what his brother was going through. Not after he had overheard them wondering when Virgil would ‘move on’ and find someone to date.

“I know he used to, like two years or so ago, and even then it wasn’t a lot,” he said carefully. “Last I knew, all he would do was use a rubber band on his wrist, or hold an ice cube to his skin.”

Martha held her son’s gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Well, then it looks like he’s slipped by how bad he’s been doing on all of us. There’s way too many freshly healing wounds on his arms to be over two years old.”

Behind the adults, both Talyn and Joan gave Patton a disbelieving look: they knew better.

“As for the cuts from the bullies…” Daniel took a deep breath. “They carved the word ‘soulless’ into both of his arms.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Yule! I should have the next chapter (and it'll be longer, I promise) up within the next week or so.
> 
> Everyone have a happy and safe New Years!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this is SUPER late and SUPER short. Like, I almost didn't post it I ashamed of how short it is. But I'm so late, and I wanted to post something. I had it started over a week ago on a road trip and then my stupid POS tablet didn't save it! Grrrrrr!!!
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks to childhood abuse (by parents) and bullying (kid vs kid), as well as flashbacks to the assault Virgil suffered (physical and sexual). Also brief amnesia and disassociation.

 

Virgil was floating.

Exactly _why_ and _how_ he had come to be floating, he had utterly no idea.

He thought hard, trying to remember where he was, and what he had been doing previously. All his brain could come up with was doing homework on his bed with Patton, who was attempting to write his Manga into typed style.

He could feel the burning pain on his arm from where he had cut himself.

He could taste the sweetness of the shake Patton had made them.

He could even recall the last problem on the take-home math quiz which had given him so much grief.

But despite that being the last thing he fully remembered, it could not have been the last thing he had done and this all a dream, because something felt… off. Exactly what he could not say, but he knew because he knew that particular math problem he had managed to get correct (and had been surprised). But beyond that night… nothing. Completely blank.

So, he floated. It was not dark, but it was not light, either. There was no source for the light/not light, it just sort of… was. And there was not truly a set color, either. It was warm, at least. That was something, right? Especially given that Virgil was always cold. Nice to have a plus… wherever he was.

He floated on.

He tried to move a few times but found he could not. While part of his brain told him this was bad bad _bad_ and he should be very worried (if not downright scared), Virgil found he did not especially care.

Once in a while, he thought he could hear Patton talking to him. It was Patton’s voice speaking like from another room, just loud enough to be sure of the speaker and yet soft enough to not be understood.

Sometimes it felt like someone was holding his hand, but no one was floating here with him.

It took time for anything to start to change in the floating nothingness.

First, it was pain.

It felt the same as when he cut himself, but it was from wrist to elbow on both arms. Virgil was careful to not do both arms in the same area at the same time, lest some adult take notice. Not to mention he had no recollection of using a blade on either forearm recently.

But beyond that pain was more. It was deep, throbbing, and woke up memories he did not want to face.

_He was tied against the basement’s staircase railing, cowering on the rickety wooden stairs._

_“Momma!” he cried. “Momma! I’s sorry, Momma! I didn’ mean to! Please, momma! I’s sorry!_

_I –  ”_

_“Shut_ up _, you little fucking piece of shit!” A woman with no face swung a large metal spoon at him, striking him on his arms, shoulders, and side as he tried to shield his head the best he could with his wrists bound to the railing by a dirty dishcloth._

What did I do? _Adult Virgil wondered as the scene floated away._ I broke something… a glass? I don’t remember.

_He was a few years older the next time. He was hanging from the basement ceiling, his bare, bloody feet struggling for purchase on the jagged cement block underneath him. His sides and chest were screaming – not that his feet and wrists were not also in pain – in pain._

_He had forgotten to take the trash out the night before._

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid useless Virgil!_

_His parents – no. Sir and Ma’am – were upstairs, probably moving the heavy furniture around based on the banging and groaning he could hear._

_Would have been nice if they had taken him down, even if they had locked him in his cage instead of giving him permission to use the couch he was allowed to use as a bed when he had been good._

_But today he had not been good._

_This was all his fault._

_Next, he was outside._

_The sun was shining; he could tell because it back-lit the bullies standing over him._

_They had dragged him behind the gym, out of sight of teachers and other students who might be tempted to go for help._

_He did not remember who they were, or what they said, or even what – if anything – he had done to draw their attention._

_All he remembered was the pain._

_All he could feel was pain._

“He’s more of a fighter than I remember.”

_That sneered comment came out of nowhere; the non-existent light flickered and the voice faded away._

_But soon it was back._

“ -ing a spot in the Sanderson household. How did you manage  _that?” The same voice came back into focus._

“Deegan thinks he whores himself,” _another voice chimed in._

“It  _is_  the only thing that makes sense,” _The original voice continued._ “He did it with the math teacher back home in Nebraska to improve his grades, and he was only a kid! Didn’t you, Soulless?”

_Soulless,_

_Martin._

_Pansy._

_Deegan._

_They had caught him in the hallway by the locker room, them and their cronies._

_There was more, he knew there was, but he also knew he did not want to remember, did not want to know what was hiding in the darkness, the darkness that was edging in on him._

“Hand me the scissors.”

_They had beaten him; that was nothing new._

_But they had also cut off his hair._

_That was new. Terrible, and new, but not what was creeping in on him._

_Virgil struggled to move, to run, to hide, to escape whatever was out there._

_He did not want to know; he did not want to remember._

“Take it all off! And then we can start the  _real_  fun!”

_Pansy._

“I love it when the person beneath me struggles,” _Martin stated from above him._

_No. Nononononononononono._

_Virgil was cold now._

_The pain etched into his arms again as if being cut anew._

_He tried to curl in on himself, to warm himself, to draw comfort, to hide, to… something. Something other than risk being found by what was hunting him, stalking him._

_He knew, deep down, that he desperately did not want to be found, even if it meant being in this burning, cutting pain forever._

_Something wet._

_Was it raining?_

_No._

_Rain smelled nice, soft and earthy and comforting._

_This was not._

_Urine._

_Virgil wrinkled his nose._ Ew.

_Disgusting, degrading, embarrassing, shameful, nasty, yes._

_But what he was just out of reach of was far, far worse._

_Something touched him._

“Struggle all you want,” _Deegan snarled above him._ “But try and get away, and what we have done to you will be so small compared to what we’ll do to your friends!”

_Deegan was on top of him, half-naked and rutting into Virgil’s bare stomach, body hot and hard and violent as Virgil struggled beneath him, frantic and manic as he tried to move to escape to do something, anything_

_The light went out._

“Virgil!”

Everything shattered, dropping Virgil into a total freefall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry it's so short... I promise the next one will be longer, but before that, I am really, really hoping to update if not wrap up When Shadows Fall! Yay!
> 
> Aaaand I have a new idea for a Soulmate Sanders Side fic... the plan is to have two or three complete chapters of THAT one before I even start posting.
> 
> And did I mention I have an idea for ABO Hawaii Five 0?
> 
> And I'm working on an update for one of my inactive fics?
> 
> SO MUCH WRITING!! Good thing it's a hobby that costs me nothing but my sanity!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: panic attacks, flashbacks to the attack, references to self harm, panic attacks.

 

**Patton Texting**

Roman Texting

OoOoO

_The light went out._

_“Virgil!”_

_Everything shattered, dropping Virgil into total freefall._

OoOoO

Patton refused to leave Virgil’s side – not that their parents tried to make him leave – even to go home and sleep that night. He stayed while Martha and Daniel met with the school’s principle as well as the police chief and the officers who had been first to arrive on the scene. Talyn’s parents had joined in and were already in the process of pushing through the DNA tests in their own labs while the police ran their own.

Unsurprisingly, their main suspects were already in the system with either sealed or dropped charges; Patton had given the bullies’ names to their parents and the police, having a gut-rotting feeling that it had been them who had attacked Virgil.

As Patton kept vigil on his brother, he found himself hoping their parents pulled them out of school; he could not stand the thought of going to school there anymore, given what had happened. Virgil would be even worse off, his anxiety and depression already unstable before this. But to return to school where this attack had happened? Especially if some – or even one of – the bullies got away with it?

He was sorely tempted to call their parents and tell them he was quitting school, that he refused to go back to the place with such horrid memories, a place that turned a blind eye to the bullying Virgil – and a few others, such as the Common girl Felicity who was there on a scholarship – if not outright denied the bullying by students and staff alike ever happened.

Virgil was so, so pale and fragile-looking laying in the hospital bed, his wrists bound by padded restraints over the bandages as a precaution because of the obvious signs of recent self-harm; not to mention what he had recently gone through. Patton had tried to argue that having been bound when he had been attacked and waking up being bound would cause his brother to have a panic attack.

They did not listen.

The two IV drips were still going; one a saline solution, the other a blood transfusion. Virgil’s face was partially hidden under an oxygen mask, and a clip on his finger tracked the O2 levels in his blood and his heart rate. A cuff on his thin arm inflated itself at random intervals to track his blood pressure.

Everything was within normal levels, the nurse had assured them an hour ago when she had come in and checked on Virgil. He had also asked if they needed anything, but all three of them had refused. Thankfully the nurse had left it at that.

A glance behind him told Patton that their two friends were still reading (Joan was reading _A Discovery of Witches_ and Talyn was proofing a paper copy of one of their own novels called _Fade to Color_ ), though they both were distracted and fidgeting, eyes continually drawn to the bed and the figure on it.

A shift on the bed made Patton shoot to his feet. “V?” he asked softly.

Virgil did not respond; his brow was slightly wrinkled, and the fingers on both hands were twitching.

“Is he waking up?” Talyn wheeled themself over, Joan half a step behind. “Should I go get someone?”

Patton shook his head without looking away. “I think he’s dreaming, and I don’t think it’s a good one,” he murmured. Reaching out hold Virgil’s hand, his free hand card through Virgil’s hair. “Virgil? It’s ok, you’re safe. We’re right here with you.”

Joan walked around to the other side of the hospital bed to mirror Patton; Talyn rubbed soothing circles on their friend’s calf.

A few minutes later Virgil’s dream must have worsened; he struggled against the padded cuffs, back arching against the bed. His breathing became short and fast just as it did when he was having an anxiety attack. He was… keening… in the back of his throat, the sound sending shivers down his friends’ spines as they bent over him, unsure of what to do or how to help.

“Virgil, Virgil!” Patton called, shaking his brother’s shoulders, his forehead creased in worry. “It’s just a dream, you need to wake up. I’m right here with you; _we’re_ right here!”

A moment later Virgil’s eyes flew open, wide and bulging as his chest heaved, lungs gasping in huge gulps of air. He tried to sit up but the restraints kept him pinned down. He fought them, yanking in a blind panic as he tried to free himself.

“Virgil, Virgil!” Patton put his hands on his brother’s shoulders and slid one of them up to cup his face. “V, it’s me! Look at me! You’re in dad’s hospital.”

Virgil locked gazes with his brother but continued to struggle, his panic short-circuiting his brain. On the other side of the bed, Joan stopped trying to help Patton keep Virgil on the bed so his already bruised wrists did not become more damaged and started to undo the buckle of the restraint.

“Joan! They said we couldn’t – ” Talyn started to protest, but the words died in their throat after the look their Mate shot them. “Patton get the other restraint off him.”

Patton wasted no time in undoing the other buckle. As soon as both arms were free Virgil pulled them tight against his chest and curled up on his side facing Patton, one hand sliding up to grip his hair –

– hair that was now too short to get a grip on.

“No, no, no,” Patton wove his fingers in between Virgil’s before the other boy could change his grip to the skin of his neck. He leaned over the railing until Talyn found the lever which dropped it out of the way and he could ease himself onto the bed next to Virgil and wrap his arms around his brother as sobs shook him.

Joan managed to get the other railing lowered and took a seat behind Virgil, rubbing his back in soothing circles as he hummed a song Patton did not recognize, but the combination of their touches and the song seemed to be helping. It took a moment for Patton to realize the timing of the song was one Virgil could use to count.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

_Five._

_Six._

_Seven._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

_Five._

_Six,_

_Seven._

_Eight._

_In._

_Hold._

_Out._

“Oh, thank gods,” a voice made Patton look up.

Martha and Daniel were by the doorway; Talyn was with them – they must have gone and gotten their parents. Martha’s hand was over her mouth as she looked at her sons, the other was grasped tightly by Daniel; both of them looked exhausted, worried, and enraged.

Daniel came over to stand at the foot of the bed. “How long has he been awake?”

Patton shrugged without letting go of his brother. “A few minutes,” he replied, keeping his voice soft. “He was having a nightmare and then he woke up, all panicked and trying to get free from the cuffs.”

Daniel waved his hand in dismissal of the removal of the restraints. “You did the right thing,” he said. “I wish they would have told me they wanted to use restraints because I would have told them not to.” He sighed tiredly, running a hand over his face which was dotted with stubble. “Has he said anything?”

“No, not yet,” Patton replied before turning his attention to his brother. “V? Can you hear me?”

In Patton’s arms, Virgil nodded jerkily, his breath hitching.

Patton squeezed the hand he held in comfort and encouragement. “Mom and dad are here; they want to – ” he stopped himself from saying ‘see if you’re ok’ because it was a stupid question. Of course he was not ok.

“We wanted to let you know that we’re here, and that we love you, sweetheart,” Martha said, approaching the bed slowly. She looked as if she was holding herself back from gathering both of her boys up in her arms; but it would do more harm than good. When Virgil had this violent of a panic attack the only person who could get close to him was Patton and on occasions Joan and Talyn. Any adult made things worse, but especially a grown woman, thanks to the abuse he had suffered, mainly from his birth mother.

Virgil nodded into Patton’s shoulder but still did not move.

Daniel spoke. “Virgil, I can’t even begin to know the horrors of what you went through, but when you are able, I need to know who attacked you. The police will want a statement from you, with… with the details of what happened.”

Virgil’s body spasmed; Patton tightened his arms around him. “They need to know, V,” Patton said softly. “so they can get the bullies in as much trouble as possible.”

“…hurt… you… too…”

The three words were spoken so softly, so roughly, it was hard to put them together right away.

“They threatened who, Virgil?” Patton asked, leaning back a bit, attempting to see Virgil’s face. “Me?”

A – L – L was finger-spelled by the hand in Patton’s grip.

“All?” Patton repeated, eyes wide as he looked over at their parents.

Virgil nodded again and held out his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers.

“Three? Joan, Talyn, and I?” asked Patton, voice shaking.

Again, Virgil nodded.

Daniel turned to Martha. “Make some calls; speed up the DNA tests. And let Mr. and Mrs. Salazar know about the threats to Talyn and Joan, they’ll want some security for them. See who they recommend and get us some people for Patton and Virgil.”

“Dad, do you really think we need – well, bodyguards?” Patton asked, worried and incredulous. “Can’t we just… you know, quit school?”

“We already pulled both of you out,” Martha told them as she turned to leave. “I am unsure of what the Salazars or Karisa intend to do. I’m more worried about retaliation from the bullies and their Families, especially outside of school.”

There was more than that, far more, but hearing it would stress Virgil out even more. He did not need to hear about the principle saying how Virgil brought it on himself, that he had been a willing party to what had happened, how he was only lying about the bullying to get out of trouble with Martha and Daniel. He did not need to hear the lies she and a few of the teachers had spun of Virgil being disruptive and belligerent, of how _he_ was the bully, targeting the higher Ranked Elites at the school.

“Virgil?” Called Daniel softly, shifting from one foot to the other, hands rubbing themselves together as he took a slow step forwards. “Can you tell us – or at least tell Patton and he can tell us – who… who did this to you?”

Virgil shivered in Patton’s arms, his whole body jerking. Patton brushed his fingers through the remains of Virgil’s hair; Joan was running their hand slowly up and down their friend’s arm. Talyn had a calming hand on Virgil’s ankle.

“D-Deegan… Martin… Pansy… f-few others…” Virgil said, voice breaking as he attempted to curl even tighter against Patton. “J-jumped me…”

Patton hushed him. “Wait until the cops come. That way you don’t need to repeat it.”

The muscles of Daniel’s jaw jumped as the man ground his teeth together. Finally, he said, “Those were who Patton was worried were behind this,” he said softly. “we’re already running the… evidence… through the system. It’ll take a little extra time to get a judge to unseal their sealed records to be sure, but once we have proof we _will_ have charges brought up on them, and they _will_ have them pay for what they have done.”

_If_ they could find a judge willing to unseal Elite records, especially when doing so could get them into trouble with the law.

_If_ the evidence – not to mention the results – survived long enough to be proof.

_If_ the law would even do anything. Sure, there were cops and lawyers and judges who did their best to deal with Elites and Nobles fairly and to punish them for their crimes. But there were many more who did not, either because they were bribed, threatened, or did not care about justice, especially when the victim was a Common.

_If_ the Families of the attackers did not buy their way out of trouble again.

_If_. There were too many ‘ifs’.

OoOoO

It took almost another hour for Virgil to be calm enough uncurl from Patton’s embrace and lay back, finally allowing Daniel to check his bandages and other wounds as well as remove both IV ports since the saline and transfusions were finished. And then he almost had another attack after he realized his parents had seen his scars, old and new alike.

“We will talk about this later,” Daniel had said calmly as he held Virgil’s hand in his own. “but not now. We will find ways to help you, so you do not need to turn to this again.”

Virgil nodded wordlessly, shame flushing his face, and he could not meet his adoptive father’s gaze as he wrapped the bandages on his arms in plastic wrap.

“Patton,” Daniel continued, taping the last piece of wrap in place, “help Virgil into the shower and help him get cleaned up. I’m having someone bring over some of Virgil’s clothes from our house; they should be here shortly.” He turned his attention to Joan and Talyn. “Your parents will be here soon as well. They want to take you home and… discuss things.”

Joan was signing violently. //I refuse go back. Never. Bad people, teachers, bullies. Teachers allow.\\\

“I agree,” Talyn said. “I’m not going to go back, either.” Their eyes flashed. “I will ask mom and dad to also stop their donations to the school, too.”

Daniel shrugged and sighed. “That will be for you and your parents to talk about.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to go check on the tests. Will you two be ok in here?”

Patton nodded. “We’ll be ok, dad.” He got to his feet and embraced his dad. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Daniel smiled as he returned Patton’s hug. “Take care of Virgil, got it? I’ll be back up here as soon as I can.

Joan and Talyn were escorted out by two men in black suits – when had they got there?! – who had been standing guard outside of the room, holstered weapons at their waists after the pair said their goodbyes to Patton and Virgil, saying they would be back tomorrow to visit if Virgil was still hospitalized.

I third black suit remained outside of the door, nodding silently to Daniel as he left, pulling the door quietly behind him.

Virgil’s legs were shaking as Patton helped him stand, looping one of his arms around his neck.

“Take it easy, Verge,” Patton said, steadying his brother. “there’s no rush.”

Step by step they made their way into the bathroom. One of the corners sloped downwards to a drain, a showerhead with a movable hose and handle sticking out from the wall, partially hidden behind the shower curtain. Underneath the showerhead was a white plastic stool on which Patton settled Virgil before helping him to remove the hospital gown, leaving the raven-haired teen in only his boxers and bandages. Virgil slouched in on himself, arms cradled against his chest.

Gods they hurt…

He could also still smell urine and… other… smells.

He wanted to scrub his skin off.

Patton busied himself briefly by making sure there were towels and a clean gown within easy reach on the sink before pulling down the handled showerhead and turning it on, hand under the spray to check the temperature.

Virgil reached a shaking hand to take it from Patton, but the other boy waved it away. “Let me, please,” he begged softly. “let me do something to help you.”

_Since I wasn’t there for you earlier…_

“It’s not your fault, Pat,” Virgil said softly, finally looking up at his brother. “If… if you had been there… they might have hurt you, too.”

_Or made you watch…_

Patton started running the water over Virgil’s body, starting with his back. “I promised I would never leave you alone,” he retorted, voice cracking. “I promised I would never leave you alone.” He moved the water to Virgil’s front. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

“You’re here now,” Virgil replied softly, reaching out to put a hand on top of Patton’s tight grip on the showerhead. “you’re here now.” He repeated, wishing he could find the words to tell Patton how he felt.

Silently, Patton guided Virgil to tip his head back so he could wet his hair – what was left of it – as a tear slid down his cheek.

“Hey,” Virgil wiped away the tear. “If you had been there, if they had hurt you, all because you’re my friend, my brother… I could never have forgiven myself.”

Patton replaced the showerhead in its slot with the water still running, a soft background sound as well as to muffle the conversation from anyone listening outside. He squirted soap into his hands, leathering it up before starting on Virgil’s hair. After rinsing it he moved on to the rest of Virgil, squirting a hefty amount of soap onto a washcloth and running it gently over his brother’s body.

“Patton?” Virgil as softly, staring down at his arms. “What… what did they do to my arms? It was –” his voice hitched. “it was too methodical to just be cuts.”

Patton paused. He had not wanted to be the one who told Virgil. He pressed a kiss to the top of Virgil’s damp head. “They carved… a word,” he said hesitantly.

Virgil sighed heavily, his body shaking under Patton. “They carved ‘soulless’, didn’t they.”

Patton rested his cheek on the crown of Virgil’s head and slipped an arm around his shoulders. “Yes.”

Virgil was silent for the remainder of his shower, eyes wet and distant as Patton washed his body three times in an attempt to remove any and all traces of smell from what had happened, wishing he could also wash away the memories his brother was probably reliving in his mind.

But he could not.

After drying off and helping Virgil into the clothes Thomas had brought over – they never saw him, but he left a change of clothes for Virgil on the hospital bed with a note ( _Thinking of you, V. <3 Thomas)._ Patton helped Virgil back to the bed and got him comfortable. Virgil’s eyes closed almost as soon as Patton drew the blankets up around him, exhaustion taking over. Once he was sure Virgil was – probably – asleep, Patton took a seat next to his brother to wait for their parents to return and hopefully say they could go home.

There was a text from Roman waiting for him on his phone from shortly after they had spoken.

[6:33 PM] I don’t care what time it is, text me and let me know you’re both ok!

It was almost one AM. Patton almost decided to wait until a more normal hour but hit ‘reply’ after realizing if the positions had been reversed, that if it had been Logan who had been attacked, he would want Roman to text him and let him know what was going on.

**[12:54 AM] Sorry if this wakes you up. Virgil is spending the night in the hospital. I just helped him shower so he could at least try and feel clean.**

[12:55 AM] I wanted you to wake me up!

[12:55 AM] Is Virgil ok?

[12:56 AM] sorry, stupid question, after what happened. Is he… at least physically ok?

**[12:56 AM] Dad sutured his wounds up. They had to give him a blood transfusion, though. No broken bones but a lot of bruises.**

[12:57 AM] That’s something good at least. You said he was awake? Did he say who did this to him?

**[12:57 AM] the same people I thought, although Deegan brought some of his friends, too and Virgil didn’t know their names.**

[12:57 AM] hopefully one of those bullies will turn on the ringleaders. If not I hope the law can still take the three of them down!

**[12:59 AM] We’ll see. They’re all from Elite Families, and the last time we tried to get them for bullying Virgil it went nowhere.**

[1:01 AM] Then someone outside of the law will ensure they pay dearly for hurting Virgil.

**[1:01 AM] Roman? What do you mean?**

**[1:02 AM] What do you mean? What are you going to do? We’re kids!**

[1:05 AM] WE are. My aunt’s and her Family is not. They specialize in working above, under, and around the law. I’ve told her and her Mate about you and Virgil, and they can’t wait to meet you. If they hear about this, they will make the bullies and their families sorry.

Patton stared at the screen of his phone. Was Roman speaking of _breaking_ the law to avenge Virgil and what was done to him?

Did he even care if that was it took?

No. No, he did not. He hoped they paid dearly for hurting his brother.

**[1:06 AM] Good. Those fuckers deserve hell after carving Sou –**

Patton changed his mind at the last second about telling Roman what the bullies had carved into Virgil’s arms, but accidentally pressed ‘send’ instead of the delete.

“Shit,” Patton swore, barely remembering to keep his voice down. He did _not_ want Virgil waking up.

**[1:06 AM] Ignore that! I meant to hit delete, not send!**

Roman’s reply came in not a second later.

[1:06 AM] SOULLESS??? THEY CARVED SOULLESS INTO HIS ARMS?!

Patton sighed heavily. What was done was done, sadly.

**[1:07 AM] Yes. Please, please don’t tell anyone, not even Logan!**

Miles and miles away, Logan and Roman’s gazes met.

“Tell him you’ll keep his promise,” Logan said. “Technically, it’ll be true.”

Roman glared at him. “You want me to lie to my Soulmate?” he demanded. “Why don’t we just tell him you’re right here and already read it?”

Logan sighed. “He’s distraught and doing his best to protect Virgil, given what has happened. You heard him earlier; he blames himself for what happened to Virgil. He’ll blame himself further for his slip-up, _especially_ if he knows we both know.”

“We promised never to lie to each other,” Roman cried, outraged. As sudden as his outburst, he deflated and sat back down. “But, you are right. You read it on my phone; I wouldn’t be actually telling you…”

Logan clapped a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “I will tell him myself, once we’re acquainted. I will, I promise. Just… tell him what will set him at ease.”

Roman sighed, and nodded.

[1:09 AM] I promise.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: hospitals, anxiety/panic attacks, criticizing parents, self-harm including cutting, burning, anorexia and bulimia, background character dead and suicide, brief mention of genital mutilation, reference to past physical and sexual abuse

 

Patton had fallen asleep by the time their parents came back, head on his arms resting on the edge of Virgil’s bed, one hand clasped loosely in Virgil’s own. His hair was a wild mess from running his fingers through it so much to the point he looked like he had stuck his finger in a light socket. His dead phone was discarded on a nearby rolling nightstand.

Martha paused for a moment to look at her sons; one had been a miracle after multiple specialists had told them they would never have biological children of their own. The other was by chance, fate, whatever you wanted to call what had brought Virgil and Patton together at a time when Virgil needed someone as a little boy. And now again he had suffered horribly at the hands of others, and her other son was doing his best to pick up the pieces. She could only hope that his attackers would be made to pay for what they had done to him.

She gently shook his shoulder. “Patton?” she called softly. “Patton, wake up. Time to go home.”

Patton grumbled something unintelligible, his free hand attempting swat her away as he curled up even more so hunched over the edge of the bed.

“Patton,” Martha tried again. “wake up. We’re going home soon. You sleep in your own bed there.”

Or in Virgil’s, but the two boys sleeping together right now was almost a given.

“Home?” asked Patton sleepily. “All of us? Even Verge?” he sat up, wincing as his neck popped.

“Yes, all of us.” Daniel put a hand on his son’s back. “The police want to speak with Virgil first so they can move forward as soon as possible with the charges on his attackers.”

Working for the Salazar Family had a number of perks, including the majority of the city’s police were willing to go out of their way for people regardless of their Rank who worked at the hospitals that would see anyone and everyone at little to no cost be they families of police, first responders, firefighters, EMTs, or victims of crime.

Add in that the victim was one of the emergency room doctor’s sons?

On the bed, Virgil was stirring.

“Virgil? Verge, honey, I need you to wake up.” Martha squeezed his hand gently.

“Mm?” Virgil blinked groggily up at them before clarity returned, and he closed his eyes again. “Hey,” he managed. “is it time to go home?”

“Soon, sweetie, soon,” Martha said reassuringly. “But first… the police want to get a statement from you about what happened so they can move forward with the charges as soon as possible. Do you think you can handle talking to them?”

No. No, he didn’t. He didn’t think he ever would.

“Yes,” Virgil said softly, pushing himself more upright on the bed and instantly regretting it as pain lanced through his arm and it gave out.

Patton, still at his brother’s side, helped him sit up, adjusting the pillows so he was comfortable. “Are you sure you’re ready to talk to the cops?” he asked anxiously. “I’m sure we could wait until tomorrow.”

Virgil shook his head. “No. I just want it over and done with.” He shivered.

Patton noticed, of course, and grabbed the purple sweatshirt off the windowsill and helped Virgil put it on, wincing in sympathy when the injured teen hissed in pain when the wounds on his arms tugged painfully. “Sorry,” he murmured as Virgil leaned back, automatically tugging the cuff of the sleeves down to completely cover his wrists.

Virgil shrugged. //It ok,\\\ he signed, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Someone knocked on the door; Daniel answered it. A young male cop stood there, notepad in his hands. “Hello, my name is Officer Raines,” he said, his voice just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him. “I’m here to get Virgil Sanderson’s statement.”

Daniel let him in. Officer Raines came in, nodding a greeting to Martha and Patton before turning his attention on Virgil, stopping against the wall opposite the bed and leaving plenty of space between them. “I’ll try and make this as quick and painless as possible, ok Virgil?”

Virgil nodded. “Ok,” he said softly, eyes flickering to his brother and parents. “Can you guys… not be in here? I don’t – ” he voice caught. “I don’t want you guys in here. I don’t want you hearing… what happened. Please,”

Both Martha and Daniel looked like they wanted to argue, but after a shared look between the two parents, they nodded.

“Come on, Patton,” Martha said, holding her hand out to the boy. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

“I have to tell you that as his parents you can be present since he’s not legally an adult,” Officer Raines said almost apologetically. “Most would insist on it. But given what happened… if you would prefer to give him the option to have as few people knowing what happened as possible, I’m ok with that.”

Daniel paused on his way to the door. “We would prefer to give Virgil the decency and privacy of not having to repeat the details of everything to us.” He turned his attention to Virgil. “We’ll be right outside,” he said. “just call if you need something, ok? After the officer is finished getting your statement we’ll go home, I promise.”

Virgil nodded. “Ok.”

The officer waited until Virgil’s family exited the room and closed the door behind them before turning his attention to Virgil. “I’m sorry I have to make you relive what happened, but the more details you can give me the more we can charge your attackers with.”

Virgil didn’t speak for a moment, eyes locked onto the blanket in front of him. Finally, he drew in a shaking breath and began.

OoOoO

Patton paced the hallway outside of Virgil’s room, wishing he could be in there to support his brother; he could somewhat understand why Virgil did not want them in there, that he did not want them to know the details of what had happened to him. What Patton could not understand, however, was _why_. He could not be… embarrassed, or ashamed, could he? Because there was utterly no reason! Despite what some had – and would – say, he had never asked for any of this!

It just made him angrier.

The bullies better pay for what they had done to Virgil.

“Patton, sit down, son,” Daniel said from the floor. “you’re just going to further exhaust yourself.”

Patton shook his head. “No!” he said. “I – I’m mad! I can’t stand this; I should have been there! I should have kept him safe; I promised him! I promised,” he repeated, much more softly.

Martha got to her feet and enveloped Patton in a bone-crushing hug. “There’s nothing you could have done other than postpone their attack,” she said. “It sounds like they would have found another way to get to Virgil, or worse, hurt both of you. All we can do now is be there for him, ok? We’re not going to let this happen again.”

The dam inside of Patton broke. “It-It's so unfair! His birth parents, h-his Soulmate, the bullies thr – throughout school… why can’t he stop being h-hurt?! He do-doesn’t deserve this!!” he sobbed. “I-It’s all too much! It not f – fair!”

Daniel joined them, softly shushing Patton. “Hush, Patton. I know the universe has been fair from fair for Virgil, and things never seem to go right, but he does have you, and us, and Joan and Talyn. He has us, and we will continue to be there for him through this and support him as he finds his way through everything. We will do our best to make sure something like this never happens again, and if it does that he is able to fight through it.”

Patton nodded but the tears continued to roll down his cheeks to be absorbed in his mom’s scrub top and sweatshirt.

The police officer took longer to interview Virgil than Patton had expected, and by the time they were let back into the hospital room Virgil was on the verge of a panic attack, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, nails digging into the skin above the bandages covering the carved words.

Patton was on the bed next to him in a heartbeat, gently getting Virgil to let go of the grip he had on himself and sliding his hands into Virgil’s grasp, murmuring soft reassurances as he pulled his brother against his chest.

The officer halted by the other two adults, his eyes a strange combination of tears and raging steel. “I have everything I need,” he told them, voice rough. “I will go ahead with the charges as soon as they’re signed off.”

Daniel could tell there was something else. “What is it?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall.

Officer Raines sighed heavily, tucking away the notepad. “I can already tell that this is going to be an uphill battle on a very slippery slope. Not because I don’t believe him,” he hurried to add, raising his hand to stop Martha from speaking. “because I do. But the names he gave me… charging anyone from these Elite Families with anything they can’t get off with money or community service is going to be difficult.”

“We figured as much,” replied Martha, running a hand over her hair, smoothing the strands that had long escaped the ponytail. “we will press for everything we can get; the Salazars have already promised their best lawyers. I suspect they will pull their child from the school as well. If word of that and why gets out some of the other Families will follow suit. It’ll weaken the school as well as the businesses of the Families of the bullies.”

“Good,” Raines said with a nod. “hit those Elites where it hurts; in the money.” He stopped himself, face flushing. “No offense, Mr. and Mrs. Sanderson.”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s exactly what I was just thinking,” Daniel said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I just hope justice finds the animals that attacked Virgil.”

“He told me what word they cut into him,” said Raines. “we could treat this as a hate crime. Do you know if he truly is Soulless?”

Martha and Daniel shared a look. “We don’t know for sure,” Daniel said. “When the boys were eight or so, before we took Virgil in, Patton said they both saw a streak of blue ink appear on the back of Virgil’s hand before vanishing.”

“We don’t know if they truly saw something, or if they imagined it.” Added Martha with a quick look into the hospital room to assure herself the boys were out of earshot. “As far as I know Virgil has not had anything else appear on his skin.” She sighed. “We keep hoping that no matter if he really is Soulless or not that Virgil will let it go and move on. It’s starting to get ridiculous.”

On the hospital bed, Virgil curled tighter into a ball in Patton’s arms; Patton tightened his embrace and whispered, “It’s _not_ ridiculous, V. _You_ are not ridiculous. We both saw that blue ink and we both know it. Please remember that I love you, V. I always will.”

OoOoO

The drive home was silent other than the radio softly playing in the background. Patton sat in the middle of the backseat with his arms around Virgil, who was wrapped in a hospital blanket and half-asleep in his brother’s arms. The injured boy watched the wet scenery illuminated by the gray, cloud-filtered light of dawn fly by; when had it started to rain? During the… attack? After?

Did it matter?

Not really.

His chest hurt; his head hurt.

He reached up and pulled his beanie down until it started to cover his eyes, shielding him a little bit from the light outside. The movement tugged on the stitches on his arms, adding to his overall pain and discomfort.

_Monster!_

_Soulless!_

He had gotten out of Patton exactly what Pansy and Deegan had cut into his arms; it had been too precise to just be straight cuts.

Soulless.

Now the world would know exactly what he was; a Soulless monster, worthless and scorned, trash on the side of the road to be disposed of. Rejected by the freaking _universe_ , not good enough to be given a Mate who would love him and see him, who would live out their life with him, next to him, standing strong with him, hold him, cry and laugh with him…

His Mate had rejected him, so how was that any different than being Soulless? Either way, he had no Mate, no love, _no_ _one_.

He had no one. Patton had Roman. Joan and Talyn had each other. Martha and Daniel had each other.

He had no one.

Daniel pulled in the attached garage and shut the car off. Turning in his seat, he said, “Pat, take Virgil and rest in your room.” He paused. “Virgil, your mom and I are going to go through your room and take away anything you could use to hurt yourself. Patton said he thought you’d stopped two years ago, but you have fresh and healing wounds so we know you’ve been hiding it from him, too. We need you to know, Virgil, you do not need to do that to yourself anymore; you never did.”

Virgil could not make himself look up or even speak; he curled more against Patton who in turn tightened his arms around his shaking brother.

“There’s a psychologist at the hospital I’d like you to start seeing; Talyn sees him because of their disability, and their depression and anxiety as well,” Martha said. “I’ve driven them to see him when Mr. and Mrs. Salazar are unavailable. He’s a bit…  unusual… but a good person and a good doctor.”

//Can we talk later? Please?\\\ Virgil signed clumsily as pain shot up both arms. //Too much…\\\ he stopped. How could he put how he felt into words?

“Yes, we can talk later, V,” Patton answered before either of his parents could say anything. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Patton reached across Virgil and opened the door. He had to catch Virgil when the other boy’s knees gave out once he was out of the car.

_Useless!_

_Soulless!_

_Burden!_

_Unloved!_

_Ridiculous!_

_Move on!_

_Whore!_

_Problem!_

The voice started screaming in the back of Virgil’s mind when his brother had to all but dive out of the car to keep Virgil off of the ground. He bit his lip, hard, and tried to focus on the pain instead of the voice still screaming truths – lies – and repeating taunts – insults – he had been hearing since he could remember, from anyone and everyone other than Patton, Talyn, and Joan.

Even his parents, his _new_ parents, had said some such things; never to his face – yet – but he had heard them.

Virgil’s hearing was very good.

“Breathe, V,” Patton whispered as they made it over the threshold and into the kitchen. “Let’s go rest, yeah? Or read, or listen to music, or whatever you’d like to do, ok?”

Virgil nodded as the two of them made their way up to the second story and into Patton’s room. Patton had to lead Virgil around scattered piles of clothes, notebooks, manga, and random other things on the floor until they reached the bed.

“There,” Patton said after he deposited Virgil onto his bed. “Let me go grab your blanket, yeah?”

Once Virgil nodded, his eyes still locked on the floor, Patton disappeared into the adjoining bedroom to snag Virgil’s purple weighted blanket. After a moment’s thought he mad a U-turn and also grabbed the worn and ratty teddy bear he’d gotten Virgil their first week in Madison; he knew Virgil still slept with it.

Virgil had not moved from his place seated at the foot of Patton’s bed, slouched over and shoulders hunched in, eyes on the floor.

“Here,” Patton said, gently placing the teddy bear in Virgil’s lap. “Is it ok if I put Linkin Park on?”

A nod.

Patton docked his dead phone with the charger/speaker on his bedside table. After several seconds the screen lit up, and the phone turned on. A few taps brought up their shared music account and started playing one of Virgil’s playlists of his – several hours’ worth – of Linkin Park songs.

Virgil still had not moved.

Patton tugged on his arm. “Come lay down, V. I’ll be right here with you, I promise.”

Virgil finally moved back towards Patton, who had dragged the covers down enough for the two of them to slip underneath. On top of that went the weighted blanket. Once they settled down Patton automatically became the big spoon, tucking Virgil against his chest and gently wrapping his arms around his brother.

“I love you, V,” Patton whispered, taking one of Virgil’s cold hands in his own, thumb rubbing gentle circles. “No matter what they did to you, no matter what others or even our parents say, no matter what, I will always love you, always be here for you, and always be your brother.”

If he had had any tears left, Virgil would have cried at his brother’s statement; but he had none left after…

After.

“Thank you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and distant. “love you, too, Pat.”

OoOoO

Virgil’s sleep was fitful at best, and chock-full of nightmares at worst. Multiple times, Patton had to wake him up from the grips of Deegan, Pansy, and Martin cornering him again; from his birth mother and her Mate and their hate; from a faceless Mate disavowing their bond; even Patton and their shared parents kicking him out and disowning him.

Still, he did not cry.

Towards the end, as the dreams grew steadily worse – Talyn and Joan turning their backs on him, Patton telling him coldly he didn’t love him, his Soulmate telling him to go kill himself and leave them alone – he started feeling less pain.

Instead, he felt distant.

He felt numb.

At some point, he heard their parents going through everything in his room. They found what he had meant them to find, and nothing else; not his secret place. He was willing to bet they would want to inspect his arms on a regular basis.

He would have to find other places to cut, perhaps even revert to other methods he had only briefly tried before, like hitting, burning, and a mix of anorexia and bulimia.

True to his word Patton remained on the bed with him. Even though Virgil kept his eyes closed, he could tell Patton was reading – probably manga – and texting with Roman; he could hear the page turning and the soft tabs of Patton’s fingers on his phone. Music still playing softly in the background; Linkin Park must have run out, because now it was one of Patton’s playlists, mainly Lindsey Sterling. Virgil liked her work, especially given that she wrote her own music – and not to mention being able to dance while playing the violin.

It was still raining outside; he could hear it on the roof and windows.

Virgil burrowed a little deeper under his blanket; he did not want to get up, despite his bladder insisting that he do so. Next to him, Patton gently tucked the blanket around him and brushed a short strand of hair away from his eyes.

He probably would have managed to ignore his bladder for a while longer and fall back asleep if someone had not knocked on Patton’s bedroom door. Startled and gasping Virgil’s eyes flew open and his whole body jerked, sending sharp pain up his arms and chest.

“Woah, woah, easy, V,” Patton said, grabbing Virgil’s elbows to steady him; Virgil grabbed ahold of Patton’s sweatshirt. “We’re home, it’s ok.” He winced at his choice of words. “Sorry. I know you’re not ok, but… we’re home. I’m right here with you, yeah?”

Heart racing, Virgil managed to nod, his hands clenched into fists under the blanket.

Patton turned his attention to the door. “Come in,” he called.

The door opened enough for Daniel’s head to appear. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. The Salazars wanted to see all of us up at their place. There’s a visitor, and they want to discuss the next steps in… everything that’s happened.”

Patton didn’t need Virgil’s body stiffening next to him to make him wary. “Who’s the visitor?” he asked, not moving off the bed.

“One of the teachers, I believe,” replied Daniel. “but I’m not sure which one.” He seemed to finally realize how wary the boys were being. “I doubt it’s someone bad, boys. The Salazars would have kicked them out or called the cops if it was.”

True. And Joan and/or Talyn would have texted them.

“We’ll be down in a few,” promised Patton. “Just gotta freshen up and change, dad!”

Daniel nodded, opening his mouth like he wanted to say more but closed it and shut the door as well.

Patton turned his attention to Virgil. “Do you know what you want me to go grab out of your closet?”

Virgil shook his head. //I get,\\\ he signed. //might need help changing.\\\

“Ok,” Patton replied with a nod. “Just come get me, yeah?”

Virgil nodded before sliding off the bed and walking through the connecting bathroom. His room showed little sign of having been searched, other than anything he had used to hide his razors or bandages sitting empty on his desk. A quick peek reassured him that the pile of clothes against the hidden ‘door’ to his hiding place were untouched.

Those items were still safe and hidden, then.

Virgil turned away from that and disappeared into the walk-in closet, snagging black jeans, a purple t-shirt, and a gray zip-up sweatshirt that was a little too big normally but would fit easier over his bandaged arms as opposed to some of his others. He also grabbed a black beanie; his shoes were still in Patton’s room.

Patton was in their shared bathroom, already changed, trying to flatten his hair into something resembling normal; he was mostly successful. “Almost done here,” Patton said, wetting his hairbrush again. “be in with you in a sec!”

Virgil nodded and continued on into Patton’s room, setting his clothes on the bed. Removing his sweatpants was easy enough, and he even managed to get the clean pair of jeans on after threading the belt on first. But taking off his current sweatshirt… not so much. The pain grew steadily worse as Virgil struggled to remove one of his arms from the sleeves, and failed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Patton was suddenly at his side. “Slow down, V. Let me help you.”

Virgil leaned against the bed, arms hanging at limply at his sides in defeat. //Feel helpless, burden.\\\ he signed. //Hate feeling. Bother.\\\

“You most certainly are _not_ a bother” Patton retorted, his tone gently chiding as he helped Virgil extract his arm from his sweatshirt. “Don’t you ever think that! That time last year you had to take care of me because I caught the flu while mom and dad were away, was I a burden?”

//No!\\\

Patton smiled as he finally freed Virgil’s arms and proceeded to help him with his sleep shirt. “Then now that the roles are reversed, please, V, let me help you.”

Virgil didn’t reply as Patton helped him change into clean clothes, and even slid his shoes on and tied them for him, or even when he fetched a brush to comb his now-short hair and covered the mess with the beanie. When he was all done, Patton held Virgil’s hands in his own.

“Ready to go?”

Virgil nodded. //Thank you, helping me,\\\ he signed. //I love you, Patton.\\\

Patton smiled. “I love you, too, V.”

Daniel and Martha were waiting for them in the kitchen, cooling cups of untouched coffee turning in nervous hands as they talked in low voices.

“ – don’t know how we’re going to manage the job changes and watching V – ” Martha cut herself off when Daniel caught sight of the boys and got to his feet.

“Ready, boys? The rain has mostly stopped so I figured we could walk over instead of taking one of the cars.” He watched them almost anxiously, but whether it was waiting for a reply, or because he was worried if they had heard what he and Martha were talking about neither boy could tell.

Patton’s hand tightened on Virgil’s. “That’s fine, dad. Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for either parent but turned around and marched out the front door, teeth gritting painfully as he tried to not turn around and yelled at their parents to stop being so insensitive to Virgil. What stopped him was Virgil gently squeezing Patton’s hand until he looked up and met eyes partially hidden behind a beanie. Virgil shook his head slightly.

Patton scowled. “You and me, we’re gonna talk later, got it?”

Virgil nodded, the smallest, slightest hint of a tiny smile on his lips for a second before vanishing.

Joan must have been watching for them from the sitting room’s window; they came out the front door and ran up to them. //Mom pull me from school,\\\ they signed. //Talyn, too. Possibly other friends.\\\

“Good,” Patton said as Joan gently linked arms with Virgil’s free arm. “Are you – well, we – going to be homeschooled, or what? Do you know? Dad said something about a teacher being here.”

//You see,\\\ was all Joan would say in reply.

Talyn was waiting for them at the doorway, bags heavy under their eyes and mouth set in an angry, grim line. “Mom and dad pulled me out,” they said. “they’re completely halting donations, too, and are encouraging other Elite Families to do so as well.” An almost evil smirk graced their features. “This will hit the school hard since they’re about to start breaking ground for rebuilding the main building and were counting on money from us to do so.”

“Good,” Patton replied. “they deserve it.”

Talyn held their hand out to Virgil, who took it but could not make himself meet their eyes. “Do not blame yourself, V, got it?” they asked, voice gentle and stern. “We are doing this because we love you, and because what happened was wrong. They need to be held accountable.”

Virgil nodded to the floor.

Talyn tugged their joined hands. “C’mon, we have a visitor.” They led the new arrivals into the sitting room where Mr. and Mrs. Salazar and Karisa were seated, along with…

Mr. Honig.

Virgil halted upon seeing his favorite teacher, confused and a little worried. Patton, Talyn, and Joan halted with him while Daniel and Martha went over to shake hands with the English teacher.

“Mr. Honig, glad to finally meet you,” Daniel said honestly. “Both Patton and Virgil love your class and speak very highly of you. And the fact you went out of your way to start learning ASL to easier speak with Virgil and Joan… I believe I can speak for all of us when I say thank you.”

Mr. Honig smiled faintly. “Both Patton and Virgil, as well as Joan and Talyn are quite honestly my brightest and most attentive students.” He paused, waiting until the four teens and come over to sit as a group. “That is why once I heard what had happened and that the board had no intention of pursuing, suspending, or expelling any of the bullies in question I resigned on the spot.”

The adult Salazars and Karisa seemed to have been privy to that little nugget of news. The teens shared shocked looks while Martha and Daniel looked a mix of appreciation and worry.

“I thank you, Mr. Honig, for taking a stand against the abuse Virgil suffered and not being afraid to do so,” Martha said fervently. “Please, if there’s anything we can do to help you find employment elsewhere, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Well, actually,” Mr. Honig replied, “that’s one of the reasons I am here. I know I’m only a low Elite, but I wanted to offer my services as a private tutor for all four of your children. While I specialized in English at my most recent employer, I am more than capable of teaching most other subjects, including history, maths, science, and basic psychology. I cannot do music, but from the sounds of it, three of you are already starting your own band.”

The three teens in question nodded in unison. “We are, along with a few other friends,” Talyn said. “We have our own instruments, but it’s mainly V and me who write the lyrics, though sometimes we all collab on a song together.”

“I just cheer them on,” Patton said with a shrug and a smile. “I’m too busy writing and designing stories and manga, and I can’t carry a tune to save my life.”

“No, you can’t,” Talyn said, giggling.

The parents seemed to be having a silent conversation between the five of them. After a few moments of silence, they nodded.

“We would love that, Mr. Honig,” Mrs. Salazar said with a warm smile. “Talyn has spoken of enjoying your class, as has Joan. We were already planning on hiring someone for the four of them, but it would have taken a long while to find someone qualified to our standards.” She got to her feet, motioning to the other adults. “Come on into my study and we can iron out the particulars between all of us.”

OoOoO

Mr. Honig was set to start teaching the following week, with a much more handsome salary than the school had been offering him, as well as a gas allowance and time off whenever he needed it, something his Soulmate Olivia appreciated to no end, because now he was able to take her to her doctor appointment to get a better handle on her new diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis.

Virgil, Talyn, Joan, Joan’s cousin Brittney and her uuber shy Soulmate Trevor threw themselves into their band The Unseen in all their free time, planning on starting to perform after the first of the year; they already had three covers and one original on their new Youtube channel, which had a couple thousand followers and gaining fast.

Patton was putting the finishing touches on the first couple books of his manga as well as original fiction and was about to submit them to a couple of different publishing companies under the pseudonym Thom Sanders for the mere reason he wanted to get published based on his work and not his name. He did his best to be there for Virgil, but he quiet brother was distancing himself from a lot of people, sometimes even him and their friends.

Virgil’s battle with his anxiety and depression worsened. He tried going to see the shrink his parents took him too for a few months, but as soon as he turned eighteen he stopped; it hadn’t really been helping him. The psychologist kept pushing him to ‘move on and find someone else’ as Martha and Daniel were starting to do more often, and he found he just could not do so. Not yet, and maybe not ever. But since the parents were out of town more and more often getting another Salazar hospital set up in Texas and another in Washington State there was a lot of time to think, to hide, to hurt. He barely ate other than coffee and energy drinks, and the occasional piece of fruit. A lot of that he threw up later. Virgil’s stomach and thighs now also bore signs of abuse from blades and burns; the arms were mostly left alone, the ‘Soulless’ borne in silent pain. He barely slept.

Turned out one of Deegan’s cronies named Brett turned on them and confessed to helping Deegan, Pansy, and Martin with the attack on Virgil; Brett got probation and a thousand hours of community service; he swore up and down that those events had pushed him to rethink his life and to never, ever be part of something so awful again. Pansy – who had some point had taken a selfie of herself with a bound Virgil while holding a bloody razor – got a year in juvie and three years probation. Martin, because he was eighteen and had a history of bullying ‘underage children and teens’ got six months in jail and a year probation.

Deegan, who was 17 and had been DNA matched to the semen on Virgil’s body got six months probation and two hundred hours community service for ‘excess youthful acting out’ after stating Virgil had been a willing participant in what had happened both before and after Brett and his brother left. The judge said he did not want ‘one Common’s outrageous claims to ruin the future of such a fine and upstanding young man from a prestigious Elite Family’.

Virgil was not surprised. The Salazar lawyers were attempting to prove the judge had been paid off by the Elite Families but were having no luck. It was a similar repeat of all those years ago when they had urinated in his locker, but many time worse.

The only mildly good thing was the school was teetering on the brink of closing. Word had gotten out about what had happened, not just to Virgil but threats had been made of harm to Patton, Joan, and Talyn. Other Elite and Noble Families pulled both their children and donations out; two other teachers quit. After that, it was mostly the Elite and Noble Families who were ‘Purists’ who still remained at the school, but even giving more donations the school was still one wrong move away from complete collapse.

Then Brett’s – unrepentant – brother died from a hit and run; the car was found a burning ruin 12 hours later.

Martin died a week later, multiple shives in his body out of sight of any cameras and guards; three lifers – two Common and one Elite – claimed the kill. A little digging showed that all three had children with cancer, and Healing Hands had been the only hospital to overlook past the child’s parents and were treating them as they would any sick child; one, a seven-year-old named Lizzy was even in remission. At her doctor’s insistence, she was allowed visitation with her father to celebrate without six inches of glass separating them. After that, two more Elites claimed their own shiv found in Martin’s body.

That death brought the police – including Officer Raines – to their doors, wondering if they knew anyone who would be willing to kill to ‘even the scales’ regarding the less than deserving punishments the bullies had been given by the judge – who died two weeks later of a heart attack.

The police did their work and checked alibis and calls and anything else they could get ahold of but came up with nothing to tie anyone in either the Salazar or Sanderson Families to any hitmen or known Revengers groups in or out of the USA.

Not that the Families of the victims/bullies believed it, but when the law – and their own investigations – turned up nothing, there was nothing they could do but attempt to smear them to the press for ‘killing their precious little men who would never hurt anyone’. Not that many of the press paid them any mind; the Salazars were too well liked, and Sanderson's worked for them and were well-respected in their out rights in the medical fields.

Pansy was found hanging in her cell two days later; the medical examiner called it a suicide.

That night, after receiving the news, Patton joined Virgil and the others for their band practice.

“I wish I knew who was doing this, I’d send them flowers,” Talyn said blatantly, tuning their guitar. “and chocolates.”

By their DJ station, Joan clapped their hands and gave a thumbs up.

Virgil shrugged. “You guys are all I have,” he said softly. “I don’t know who did this.”

Brittney was counting silently down on her fingers. “Doesn’t that just leave one left?”

“Yeah. The worst for last.” Growled Patton from his spot on the couch. His thumbs hesitated over the screen of his phone: dare he ask?

Roman had said his Family would pick up where the law left off, and this all more than qualified.

The next week, Deegan went missing from school between his last class and football practice; a week later the bloody remains of testicles and a penis were nailed to the outside door of the boy’s locker room. The medical examiner found that not only were the remains from Deegan, but they were removed premortem – meaning while he was still alive.

They never found a body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, the ending is a bit rushed but it just would not make itself longer. Maybe someday I can go back and add to it. In the meantime... time for a time jump!! Next chapter will be college/band performance/almost meeting time for Patton and Roman! (V and Logan will not happen just yet, sorry!). I already have the next chapter pretty much written - honestly, I have since the first time jump because I had an idea and had to write it out before I forgot.
> 
> Are you ready??


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TIME JUMP!! They are now starting college in Madison, Wisconsin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: references to bullying, self-harm, depression, anxiety.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE THIS!!! ANY SONG THAT IS 'WRITTEN' BY THEIR BAND IS WRITTEN BY ME AND IS MINE!!! While I do not own any of these characters, I do own those songs!
> 
> Edit: In my mind, the band sounds like a mix of Linkin Park, Smash into Pieces, and Skillet. See the stage names for how I imagine the singers to sound like.
> 
> Stage names:
> 
> Virgil = Anxiety, sounds like Chester (RIP!!) in Linkin Park
> 
> Talyn = Viking, sounds like the low tones of Cassaadee from Diamanthe
> 
> Joan = Scream, none
> 
> Brittney = Victoria, Ariel from Icon for Hire
> 
> Trevor = Shadow, none yet
> 
>  
> 
> For the singing:
> 
> Virgil/Anxiety
> 
> Talyn/Viking
> 
> Brittney/Victoria
> 
> (any of them – screamed/spoken lyrics)

  **Stage names:**

**Virgil = Anxiety**

**Talyn = Viking**

**Joan = Scream**

**Brittney = Victoria**

**Trevor = Shadow**

**For the singing:**

**Virgil/Anxiety**

_Talyn/Viking_

Brittney/Victoria

**(any of them – screamed/spoken lyrics)**

_**So this would be both Talyn and Virgil** _

OoOoO

Logan couldn’t stop his lip from curling a little as he looked around the underground rave – well, so-called ‘underground’ since they were in the large back room of an out-of-the-way club with the typical idiotic dancers and drinks and people. College-age people were scantily dressed – at least in Logan’s opinion since he was even here wearing a long-sleeved button-down shirt minus the tie – and more wore shirts with silly sayings or cartoons on them. There was even the occasional twenty or thirty-something person. All of them were chatting excitedly, eyes never straying far from the stage currently shrouded by a black curtain. Background music with heavy base seemed to rattle the floor.

The only thing that didn’t match the stereotypical rave scene that he could see so far had been the sign on the door when they had first walked in:

**_Epileptics welcome tonight! No flashing lights tonight! Enjoy your time with us and enjoy the band! If you see anyone with an illegal light or anything that could trigger a seizure, please let one of our staff know immediately!_ **

“Why are we here, again?” he asked Roman, eyeing the well-muscled bouncers that not only stood by the doors but also patrolled the perimeter and the sea of bodies. He’d already seen one girl dragged out for heckling first a gay interracial couple and then a poly-Mate group of two guys and a girl. Another was actually handcuffing a well-dressed guy who had to be in his forties who had been attempting to chat up a Mated pair who couldn’t be more than thirteen.

Roman flashed his grin as he swayed to the background music. “Because you lost a bet to me, remember? I told you there was a word I knew the meaning of that you didn’t.”

Logan winced at the memory; it wasn’t a proud moment for him, that was for sure. Thinking the meaning of the word ‘infinitesimal’ meant very big when it really meant very small was _not_ something he wanted to be reminded of, _especially_ when it had been Roman of all people to correct him. But knowing Roman he’d engrave it on Logan’s damn tombstone just to be able to rub it in one last time.

The spectacled boy glanced up at the stage, which was currently hidden behind a curtain bearing a capital T whose middle vertical line swooped down to form the left side of a capital U. “So what’s the deal with this band?” he asked with a heavy sigh.

“They’re called The Unseen, they’re this.. alternate rock/metal group,” Roman said, just about bouncing on the balls of his feet now in his excitement. “No one knows what any of the members actually look like; they wear masks, elaborate makeup, wigs, and one of them always has their hood up. They each have a stage name, too. Oh! And when they’re not singing, like when they announce a song or addressing the crowd, they use voice modifiers.”

“Ah.”

Roman noticed how Logan kept eyeing the bouncers. “The owners of this club don’t allow any drugs in here, anyone causing disruptions or being rude or bullying is banned forever, and harassment or assault gets you a ride from the cops. And you saw the sign on the door; they have epileptic-friendly nights.”

The lights dimmed at that moment, and what seemed like everyone in the room screamed as the curtain hiding the stage was dropped, revealing five band members who were still in shadow. One was standing behind a DJ setup. There were two guitarists, one standing and the other seated. There was also a bassist standing on the other side of the stage, and the drummer was also seated.

“Welcome,” said the seated guitarist as the light on them brightened, their voice somewhere in between masculine and feminine even with the voice modifier. They wore a simple forest green tank top and black skinny jeans with a matching simple black masquerade mask. A strange metal cuff was on their fingering hand covering over half their forearm; chains ran from that up to an upper arm cuff. “for anyone new here tonight, we are The Unseen; I am Viking, they/them pronouns. This is Shadow, who uses he/him pronouns.” they motioned to the dark-skinned bassist as the light above him brighten; he was wearing a loose white button-up t-shirt and black jeans; a single large clear gem winked from his left ear.

“Scream,” they pointed back to the DJ, who had the hood up on their red sleeveless hoodie and one ear covered by a large set of headphones. They threw up some sort of handsign with the thumb, pointer, and pinkie finger raised and the middle and ring fingers curled inwards; many of the crowd returned the sign, cheering loudly. “who uses they/them. Victoria, or V, is on the drums, and uses she/her pronouns.” Viking motioned to the drummer with long hair starting out as blue and fading into ash blonde. She was wearing of all things an intricate blue and pink hybrid dress that was somewhere between a sari and a ballgown. Her masquerade mask was in feathers the same color as her mask.

“And last but not least is Anxiety, who uses he/him pronouns.” They motioned next to them to the other guitarist. He was wearing tight-fitting trip pants, bands of cloth connected the leg of one side to the hip of the other, black calf-high boots with several buckles, a black and green hoodie with the Unseen’s insignia one arm, and black mesh fingerless gloves. Black hair that was around four to five inches long containing stripes of blue, purple, and green fell into his face, which had elaborate makeup masking his features.

“As those of you who know us know, we always warm up with the cover to a song, with our own little touches of course.” Said Anxiety, tilting his head, letting the spotlights catch of the elaborate cat’s eye makeup and the piercings in his lips, nose, and eyebrow. “Tonight, it’s ‘My Demons’ by Fight the Fury, and is dedicated to my Soulmate.”

The crowd roared again; apparently, many of them liked that song. But some of them that Logan judged to be die-hard fans by all of the fan gear they wore, were booing.

“Why do some of the crowd not like that song?” Logan asked Roman who was alternating between clapping and motioning a thumbs-down. “Is it that bad?”

A nearby fan answered before Roman could even open his mouth. “Anxiety’s Soulmate rejected him,” they said, making a face. “So he was accused of being Soulless growing up and has the scars to prove it. _That’s_ why they’re mad; the song itself is awesome.”

Logan didn’t miss the way Roman’s lips thinned and how he looked very purposefully _not_ at him. Thankfully the fan had turned back to the band. The music was starting, and even Logan had to admit there was a… dark edginess to it that even he (never admittingly) could enjoy.

And Anxiety’s voice, alternating between a guttural roar and singing?

Let’s not go there.

At different points during the song, Viking joined in with their own lilting voice.

 **I go to sleep with my demons**  
**Creep in my head every night**  
**They come to shred all my dreams**  
**As I bled on my bed**  
**Why is this my life?**  
  
**(Why? Why?)**  
  
**_(Something's wrong with me)_**  
**Something's wrong with me**  
**_(These chains around me),_ sinking**  
**What you did to me**  
**_(I can't let go),_ bleeding**  
**_You_ _tear me into a million cuts_**  
**I can't forget what you know you've done**  
  
**I hope you're happy wherever you are**  
**Cause you're the reason I'm afraid of the dark**  
  
**_I go to sleep with my demons_**  
**The past is always awake**  
**They sink their claws digging deeper**  
**They all come for feeding inside of me**  
**_(Take my demons away)_**  
**I go to sleep with my demons**  
**Creep in my head every night**  
**They come to shred all my dreams**  
**As I bled on my bed                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Why is t his my life?**  
**Take my demons away**

  
**(Why?)**  
  
**Something's wrong with me**  
**( _I pray for you_ ) to suffer**  
**You taught me to hate ( _I suffocate_ )**  
**Go under**  
**Just once could I have a different life**  
**_Where I can sleep closing both my eyes_**  
  
**I hope you're happy wherever you are**  
**Cause you're the reason I'm afraid of the dark**  
  
**_I go to sleep with my demons_**  
**The past is always awake**  
**They sink their claws digging deeper**  
**They all come for feeding inside of me**  
**Take my demons away**  
**I go to sleep with my demons**  
**Creep in my head every night**  
**They come to shred all my dreams**  
**As I bled on my bed, why is this my life?**  
**Take my demons away**  
  
**( _Why_ , _why, why is this my life?)_**  
**(I can't, I can't close my eyes)**  
**Why, why, why is this my life?**  
**I can't, I can't close my eyes**  
**Why, why, why is this my life?**  
**I can't, I can't close my eyes**  
  
**I can’t forget what you know you’ve done                                                                                                                                                                                         I hope you're happy wherever you are**  
**Cause you're the reason I'm afraid of the dark...**

 **Something's wrong with me**  
**( _I pray for you_ ) to suffer**  
**You taught me to hate ( _I suffocate_ )**  
**Go under**  
**Just once could I have a different life**  
**Where I can sleep closing both my eyes**

**_I hope you’re happy wherever you are_ **

**_Cause you’re the reason I’m afraid of the dark…_ **

The song seemed to wind down, but then –

_ We can’t forget what we know you know you’ve done _

_ We hope you’re unhappy wherever you are _

_ Cause you’re the reason he’s afraid of the dark _

_ And we’ll never forget Nor will we forgive _

– Viking, Shadow, and Violet continued singing their own lyrics, and behind their DJ stand Scream was signing along with them. It was brief, and not explicit, but the unspoken threat hung on the air as silence fell for a moment before the crowd erupted.

“Well, that was different,” Roman commented as he clapped his hands above his head, watching Anxiety go over to Viking perched on their chair and cup his hand behind their head and press their foreheads together briefly, and clasp hands with the rest of the band. “They don’t usually ad-lib like Viking and the others just did. Guess they’re all really close.”

He still wouldn’t look at Logan. Logan tried to ignore the guilt creeping up his spine.

As the crowd died down, Anxiety approached their mic, and Viking spoke.

“Next up is a collab song written by Victoria and myself.” They adjusted the strap on their guitar. “It sort of embodies all of us Unseen, and I know a good deal of you as well. It’s called ‘Rejects Wanted’.”

The tune was on the same level as My Demons, aggressive and angry, but Logan couldn’t keep his foot from tapping to the beat.

 

_We are the different ones, the rejects_

_The ones everyone always suspects_

Color, love, mate, Rank or Sex

(Soon It’ll be time for their reality checks!)

__

_ Etch it down on the page _

_ So we’re harder for them to gauge _

_ And to veil our rage _

_ (So they don’t lock us up in a cage) _

 

**_ We are the outcasts _ **

**_ The weirdos _ **

**_ The losers _ **

**_ Those society brands with a scarlet letter _ **

**_ They try and take us out _ **

**_ One by one _ **

**_ But one day soon we will rise up and then _ **

**_ The roles will be reversed _ **

**_ Victim will be victor _ **

**_ And the bullies will all be torn down _ **

__

_ Come one, come all, rejects wanted _

_ Those of you with stories most haunted _

_ Let us all be undaunted _

_ (And take our power back from the flaunted) _

__

_ Their sticks and stones may have broken our bones _

_ And too many of us have our own gravestones _

_ Time has come to destroy their thrones _

_ (Blood they spilled the warpaint on our cheekbones) _

 

**_ We are the outcasts _ **

**_ The weirdos _ **

**_ The losers _ **

**_ Those society brands with a scarlet letter _ **

**_ They try and take us out _ **

**_ One by one _ **

**_ But one day soon we will rise up and then _ **

**_ The roles will be reversed _ **

**_ Victim will be victor _ **

**_ And the bullies will all be torn down _ **

 

_With a collective rage greater than King Kong_

We will prove them all wrong

**Just ‘cause we’re different doesn’t mean we don’t belong**

**_ But some of you knew this all along _ **

**_ Friends, family, lovers all with us strong _ **

**_ Our differences our battle song _ **

The chorus was repeated one final time, with Scream signing the words along with them. Even the crowd was singing – and a couple were even signing – as the song finished.

“Well, what do you think?” Roman shouted in Logan’s ear in an effort to be heard over the crowd.

Logan hesitated. “They’re… different than what I usually listen to,” he said. “I like how raw their words and energy are. And they obviously appeal to the crowd.”

Roman nodded. “Just about anything is different than what you usually listen to,” he teased. “At least you don’t think they’re horrible.”

Back on stage, the band was part-way through another, softer song.

“There’s something unusual about them, that’s for sure,” Logan said.

It was all he could say, without giving away that something was niggling at the back of his mind, something half-remembered, or forgotten long ago. What was it?

It was going to bug him all night now.

Next, the band – mainly Anxiety and Violet – did a cover for ‘Last Night’ by Skillet, alternating the lines and singing together. Anxiety mentioned prior that the main male singer for Skillet was also the main singer for Fight the Fury – something some of the audience didn’t appear to know, and all hurriedly made notes on their skin or in their phones.

The last song was also written by Anxiety.

“I’m sorry,” he said almost sheepishly – if anyone using a voice modifier, wearing gothic clothes and eerie makeup could, “but this song is also for my Soulmate, a message, as it were, that I wish they would get.”

This song started out softer, even if some of the lines were screamed before reaching a pounding crescendo in the middle and fading back off at the end.

**You left me broken**

**Just a little token**

**(Of your fucking affection)**

**Wish I could say I was joking**

**But Fate has spoken**

**You left me soaking**

**(In blood so red)**

**Was it something I said**

**Or lies you were fed**

**Away you were led**

**(Leaving me for dead)**

**I should have known**

**(The moment my world was blown)**

**The festering seeds you planted have grown**

**(High and mighty on your throne)**

**By the Maiden, Mother, and Crone**

**(I pray you atone)**

**Out of mind out of sight**

**Am I right**

**Under the cloak of night**

**I’m giving up the fight**

**(Erasing what might)**

**(Have been)**

**Committing another sin**

**Screaming silently again**

**Wondering if and when**

**(I will begin to mend)**

**But in my heart**

**I know I was doomed from the start**

**So tired of playing this part**

**Creating my last work of art**

**(Hope it pierces your heart)**

**When you see**

**The news about me**

**But I think we can all agree**

**You won’t care because you let me be**

**(Couldn’t bend your fucking knee)**

**(So now you are free)**

**I should have known**

**(The moment my world was blown)**

**Festering seeds you planted have grown**

**(High and mighty on your throne)**

**By the Maiden, Mother, and Crone**

**(I pray you atone)**

**I should be appalled**

**As I continue to fall**

**Your name is what I call**

**As I break down my walls**

**A lifetime tall**

**I know it is all a lie**

**Just wish I knew why**

**But your actions are all I have to judge you by**

**So as I breathe one last sigh**

**I will whisper to you**

**Goodbye.**

As the crowd applauded and screamed, someone off to the side of the stage leapt up, and next to Logan, Roman tensed.

“Crap,” he muttered. “They’re about to get hauled out of here banished forev – oh, never mind.” He stopped himself when none of the bouncers moved in to apprehend the offender.

Said offender wore a bright red, feathered masquerade mask tied behind his head, and for all intents and purposes ‘glomped’ Anxiety, tackling him in a hug – Anxiety saw him coming and moved his guitar in time – a hug that the singer gave back. He appeared to whisper something in Anxiety’s ear before dashing off the stage again.

“My brother the Whirlwind,” Anxiety joked.

The crowd chuckled; someone yelled “Love you, Whirlwind!” and someone else yelled for an encore, and that cry was soon taken up by everyone.

The Unseen gathered around Viking, whispering and signing back and forth for a minute until they reached an agreement.

“Alright, a nice and simple one,” Viking said as the rest of the band members returned to their positions. “I’m sure a majority of you listen to Linkin Park, right?” The crowd shouted affirmatives – except Logan, but that was kind of a given – and Viking continued, “Well, sing it if you know it!”

The song wasn’t announced, but as soon as the beginning’s keyboard and drumbeats started, everyone seemed to know which song, based on the roar of the crowd.

“Burn It Down! Hells yeah!” one of the spectators shouted.

As the song was sung by The Unseen and the crowd together and listening – and getting into the lyrics – Logan made a mental note to check out this ‘Linkin Park’ once he got home.

Without Roman knowing, that is. And see if The Unseen had anything posted on youtube, too.

Would not do his well-cultivated ‘nerd’ image any good to be heard listening to metal/rap/rock.

However one would classify either of these bands.

OoOoO

Back in their house, Roman finally looked at his arm (he had broken his phone that morning). He had felt Patton respond while they were at the concert but hadn’t wanted to take away from the joy of watching Logan actually enjoying music that wasn’t classical. Once he shared that with Patton, Roman was sure he would understand and get a kick out of it.

**Sorry, will write back in a bit. At Virgil’s band’s concert. The Unseen; heard of them?**

Roman couldn’t help it: he _screamed_.

Logan came running into his room. “What is it?!” he panted. “What’s wrong?”

“I – Pat – I – we – ahhh!”

Logan frowned at him. “I understood absolutely none of that, just so you know.”

“Pattonwastheretonighthisbrotherisoneofthebandmembers!” Patton screamed.

After taking a couple of seconds to put together the gibberish his cousin had just said, Logan understood. “Really?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Roman was about to vibrate out of his skin as he hurriedly wrote back, Yes! I was there at their performance tonight!! Wait, was that you who ran up on stage?? Whirlwind??

The reply came seconds later.

**Yes that was me! You were there? We were in the same place?? Damn it!!**

“Yes, it was him!” cried Roman, bouncing on his bed. “It was him, Logan! Whirlwind! I was in the same building as my Soulmate and I didn’t get to meet him!”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “You know, statistically, since you’re in the same city as him, it was at least 27% that was going to happen before you guys met up.” He watched Roman writing back to his Soulmate, and felt the now-familiar tug of guilt about his Soulmate, and it was made worse because of what he had witnessed tonight, of Patton’s own brother singing about his pain, of his friends singing about how they hoped he was hurting, wherever he was.

A small part of him hoped Virgil’s Mate actually _was_ in pain.

He was so tempted that night to write to his Mate, to say he was so sorry, to beg their forgiveness, to explain why he had done what he had done.

But then he remembered watching his mother fade away from cancer, the pain his father had been put through. He remembered finding out about his father’s suicide, unable to face the pain of losing his Soulmate.

And besides, after all these years, he Soulmate must hate him. After all these years, they would not want him. For all he knew, he had moved on and found someone else.

But on top of all that, Logan was afraid. So very, very afraid.

He put the pen away.  


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but I think you'll both love and hate it.
> 
> Trigger warnings: nightmares, illusion of cutting, self-hatred.

 Logan was dreaming.

Well, more like a nightmare.

He usually didn’t dream something so… vivid. Usually, he dreamed puzzles, or math problems, or something historical. He did on occasion dream something that his brain cooked up on its own, and that he usually promptly forgot upon waking.

But this…

He was sitting outside under a tree, reading ahead for his advanced psychology schoolbook, periodically stopping to jot something down on the notebook on the ground next to him. It was sunny and unseasonably warm.

Finally fed up with his discomfort Logan unbuttoned his cuffs and pushed his shirtsleeves up past his elbows. He would have returned to his reading, had he not noticed his arms were covered in purple ink.

_Please talk to me!_

_My name is V_

_Don’t be shy_

_Who are you? What’s your name?_

_Are you mad at me?_

_Do you hate me?_

_Can you… at least say SOMETHING?_

_If you want me gone, then just say so._

_Should I just leave you alone?_

_At least scrape together some fucking courage and have the courtesy to tell me to fuck off_

_Sorry, I just… IDK…_

_It’s getting harder each day to…_

_All those years ago… did I just imagine you?_

_Please… if you want me gone…_

_Never mind._

_I’ll stop. I’ll leave_

He had gotten so used to ignoring the tingling on his arms the rare times now that his Soulmate wrote to him he didn’t really even feel it anymore. But that was usually only one sentence, not this many.

How had he not felt them?

Logan hesitantly reached out and touched the purple ink, only to jerk his hand away with a startled intake of breath. As soon as he had touched the words ‘never mind’ dark red ink started to ooze out of the words, slowly spreading out and down his arm until _all_ of the words were leaking ink – no, _blood_.

Logan clamped a hand over the injuries – if that was even what they should be called since he wasn’t actually bleeding – but the blood continued to seep around his hand, threatening to drip onto his book.

Hastily he moved it out of the way.

More words started appearing on his other forearm, bloodred and weeping down his skin, no purple ink to be seen – more like they were fresh cut into his flesh.

_Worthless!_

_Bastard!_

_Soulless!_

_Thing!_

_Whore!_

_Useless!_

_Piece of shit!_

_Garbage!_

_Better off dead!_

_V_

_V_

_V_

_V_

_V_

_V_

Logan stared, horrified, as the letter ’V’ filled in all the spaced between the words in both forearms and even the backs of his hands, all with no feeling, all bleeding crimson.

“Stop!” he croaked. “Stop, stop, stop!”

Finally, _finally_ , he woke up –

By falling out of bed.

Chest heaving in huge gulps of air, Logan searched his shaking arms with eyes wide and dilated, looking for the purple ink, the words, the blood…

But there was nothing. Not a single spot, not a single ‘V’ to be seen.

Sagging with relief Logan leaned back against his bed, eyes sliding shut. _Damn nightmares,_ he thought irritably, rubbing his hands over his face. _Ruining a perfectly good study session._

Still grumbling he got to his feet, noticing ironically that the book he had been dreaming about had been the one he had fallen asleep reading; even the notebook was there with blue-ink notes scribbled on the paper.

3:28 AM.

Logan groaned; he’d never get back to sleep at his rate. Might as well go back to reading and stay up for his seven AM class. He re-seated himself on his bed after digging a set of headphones out of his nightstand drawer. An unneeded glance at the door told him it was still firmly shut (and locked: Roman had an unpleasant habit of bursting in unannounced, usually singing some nonsensical song).

Opening the newly-downloaded Youtube app, he searched ‘The Unseen’, and selected the first song which popped up.

“Hey, it’s V,” the drummer introduced herself. “Anx and I decided to do a cover of Evanescence’s ‘Bring Me to Life.’ So… enjoy.”

As the band started Logan went to pick up his pen when what she had said, _all_ that she had said, finally registered. Her name… her stage name… was V.

Could it… could it be?

OoOoO

Patton woke up early, despite being out late for The Unseen’s third performance (not to mention staying up even later writing to Roman), his whole body thumping with nervous energy.

Two more days. Two more days and he and Roman were going to meet up, _finally,_ after all the writing, texts, and occasional phone call. They had decided to keep things ‘fun’ and ‘romantic’ and never exchanged pictures, so neither knew what the other looked like, other than Roman knowing Patton wore glasses (he’d sat on them last year and had trouble typing on his phone’s screen as a result).

The fact that they’d been so close to meeting last night just compounded the fact.

Patton had not told even Roman about the name of Virgil’s band at Virgil’s request, since anonymity was one of the main rules of the band. Patton had mentioned that a ‘friend’ was a band member and to please check out their stuff, thus how Roman had gotten so into their music and gone to see the performance last night.

Patton was in and out of the shower in fairly short order, bouncing down the stairs of his and Virgil’s tiny apartment to find his brother already seated at the breakfast counter of the little kitchen, iced coffee in one hand and a pen in the other, scowling down at his zoology book, black hair slightly messy as it peeked out of the ever-present beanie, void of the colorful clip-ins he wore during performances of video recordings. Even with his headphones in, he knew Patton had come down.

“Morning,” he said, pulling one ear free. “Get any sleep last night?”

The scream Virgil had heard come from Patton’s room had sent him running to the rescue, expecting a spider on Patton’s pillow again, or climbing the curtains, not staring at his arm in shock in the middle of his bedroom floor.

Patton grinned cheekily at Virgil. “Three hours! I just need coffee.” He poured himself some of the lovely dark goodness. “Did you sleep?” Patton asked, though he was already pretty sure of the answer.

As predicted, Virgil shrugged. “Two hours, I think.” Then he curled one side of his mouth into a half-smirk. “I just need coffee.”

Patton dug in the small walk-in pantry to the right of the fridge. “Here,” he said sternly, handing the Larabar to Virgil. “Peanut butter chocolate chip, your favorite. Eat it, please, at some point this morning, ok?”

Virgil took the offered bar. “Ok, ok,” he huffed, tucking it into the front pocket of his backpack. “I have a zoo quiz right away, but I promise I’ll eat it during my lab animal lecture, ok?”

Patton beamed. “Awesome! And you don’t have anything else until three, right?”

“Yeah… lab animal lab; we’re handling mice and rats again.”

Patton shivered. “Rats, ugh!”

Virgil giggled. “They’re not that bad! The hamsters are worse! All that loose skin makes them harder to hang on to. One of the other students got bit because it pretty much turned itself around in its skin!”

“Hey, you decided to go into animal medicine,” Patton pointed out. “You brought the rodents onto yourself.”

Virgil got to his feet and stretched. “I’ll take them over the cows,” he said with a shudder. “I have utterly no intention of ever working with large animals and dearly wish I could opt out of that class and any other one with them in it. I just want to be a small animal vet tech, is that too much to ask?”

A light glinted in Patton’s eye. “Do you mean… udderly no intention?” he burst out laughing.

Virgil’s head met his palm, though he was still laughing. “Seriously, Pat? Udderly?”

“You put it out there!” Patton said between wheezing laughs. “I just… I just ran with it!”

Virgil entered the kitchen and made a second batch of his iced coffee, pouring it into a sealed travel mug. “You _chose_ to run with it,” he pointed out. “Now come on, or we’ll miss the bus.”

While they had a shared car, Patton and Virgil were doing as much as they could to ‘fit in’ and appear ‘normal’ at Madison College, formerly a tech college. Neither of them wanted to draw attention by using their real last name, and after a meeting with the heads of the college were using Martha’s maiden name, Baumgar. Still a recognized Elite name, but not tied to the Salazars or Sandersons.

So they lived in a small, two bedroom apartment on the northeast side of Madison and usually rode the buses to school. They walked to the nearby grocery (unless they were doing a large trip), they walked to the park, they brought lunches to school.

Anything and everything to not be noticed.

There were still some members of certain Elite Families who blamed them for their children’s deaths, even when the government investigators themselves cleared both Salazar and Sanderson Families.

One could never be too careful, right?

Wrong.

Patton spent the majority of the two bus rides texting with Roman (his new phone had charged overnight, having been waiting for them when they got home from the concert), and Virgil listened to his music. Both boys got to their feet for a pregnant woman and her young son, her accent thick as she thanked them repeatedly; no one else had even looked at her, let alone offered her their seat. The little boy had signed thank you, and Virgil spent the rest of the ride ‘talking’ with the boy about his pet cat, ecstatic a random person also knew how to sign.

They split once they reached campus, Patton heading up to his Psychology lecture, and Virgil to his zoology quiz. The quiz went – Virgil felt – easier than he had expected, which his brain told him meant he had not studied hard enough and had gotten most of the answers wrong and would flunk out of school.

He tried to ignore the voice.

_Loser._

_Failure._

Emphasis on the word ‘tried’.

He managed to eat most of the Larabar Patton had forced on him during the laboratory animal lecture, which was covering the rats they would be handling this week, and drawing blood out of next week, diseases, husbandry, and more.

Virgil took notes as he could, but a new song was in his mind instead, lyrics scratched on the margins of his notebook.

_Soulless._

_Whore._

_Useless._

**_Die._ **

OoOoO

It was a nice day out, a nice last burst of unseasonably warm weather as the remaining leaves fell to earth to be shortly covered in a heavy blanket of snow, Logan thought idly as he studied his notes on one of the outdoor tables by the cafeteria, jumbled numbers, letters, and symbols on the book open in front of him.

Not that he could focus, he thought angrily. His brain refused to let go of wondering if the V in The Unseen was the V who was his Soulmate.

Oh, how they must hate him.

“I don’t know how you can enjoy that,” Roman said, plopping himself down on one of the seats sharing Logan’s table, dropping his backpack and red sweatshirt onto the other side of the table and setting his meal – a walking ‘taco salad’ where it was a bag of chips with lettuce, cheese, sour cream, and salsa inside the small chip bag – and soda in his free hand.

Logan shrugged. “It makes sense to me,” he said simply. “and I like the challenge.”

Not like he was about to tell his cousin that he was having trouble focusing; he’d been able to avoid him this morning in their shared apartment by leaving as soon as he heard the shower shut off, leaving a hand-written note saying he had to go to the library.

Which he didn’t; instead he had done research on The Unseen, trying to find out if Victoria had a mate or not. But outside of Anxiety being rejected by his Soulmate, nothing else was said about the rest of the band, but some diehard fans speculated that Viking and Scream were Mates. Nothing else was known about the other members, and no one had any idea who they really were.

Roman shook his head. “Weirdo,” he said lovingly. “my cousin the Brainiac.”

Logan nodded. “That I am,” he deadpanned.

“The cousin part or the Brainiac part?” Roman said, laughing, though his attention seemed diverted.

“Both.” Replied Logan, finally looking up and following Roman’s gaze.

Roman was staring at two boys sitting under a nearby tree, one with glasses leaning against the trunk, the other using the seated boy’s lap as a pillow, and holding some hand-made flash cards and seeming to be quizzing the seated boy, whose eyes were shut. The one laying down was still wearing a sweatshirt, despite the warm weather, as well as a beanie.

“They look happy,” Roman said, a hint of longing coloring his voice. “Once we meet, I hope Patton and I are like that.”

Logan felt a pinch in his chest. “I’m sure you will be happy with him, he’s your Mate.”

“I know,” Roman said with a sigh, watching the seated boy grab the cards from the other boy, seeming to not have believed him, and upon reading whatever was written on the card reach over and dig out a highlighter from his bag. “but look at those two… their Bond must be strong, and they’re so cute together…”

The boy in the beanie was laughing; the one with the glasses suddenly took the highlighter and aimed it towards his Mate’s face; beanie boy grabbed it with his hands, the cards scattering over his chest. They struggled for a moment, laughing, until beanie boy managed to get it away from the boy with glasses. In an instant, he reached up and drew a blue squiggle on the other boy’s cheek.

Logan shook his head turned his attention back to his book, attempting to force his attention onto the math problems; he was only marginally successful.

Less than a minute, Roman had a sneezing fit.

Logan handed his cousin the travel-size kleenex he had in his bag, “Here,” he said, glancing up automatically as he did so, and halted.

Roman’s cheek bore a blue squiggle.

Logan spun in his seat to look over at the two teen boys, who seemed to have gone back to quizzing each other.

The marks matched.

“Um, Roman?” he asked as the other boy blew his nose. “You might want to check out your reflection.”

“Huh? What, do I have snot on my face or something?” Asked Roman, brow arching in confusion, sniffling as she shoved the dirty tissue into his pocket.

Logan swallowed. “Just do it.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, Roman turned on his phone’s front-facing camera. “What the heck…” he trailed off, turning every which way to see the mark. “but I didn’t feel anything.”

Logan closed his math book. “It would appear that if someone else does the writing, or whatever, that you feel less if any sort of tingle associated with the marking. At least, that’s what I remember reading.”

Roman stared at his reflection a moment longer.

Then it clicked.

Roman’s eyes went from his reflection to the two boys under the tree. To the boy who was leaning against the tree with another boy’s head in his lap; one had blue on their cheek, and one did not.

Roman’s jaw hit the ground as he slowly got to his feet. Logan copied him, trusting that they were close enough to their bags to risk leaving them there and not have them stolen. He followed his cousin as he walked – and tripped – his way over to his Soulmate.

“P – Patton?” Roman stuttered. “Is that you?”

The seated boy looked up; the boy in the beanie sat upright. “…Yes?” the teen in glasses said, brow slightly furrowed, squinting in the sunlight. “Why? Do I know you?”

The other teen crouched in almost a defensive position next to the other boy until Roman took a few steps closer and he could see his face.

“I – I’m Roman,” Roman squeaked out, tapping his marred cheek. “Um, hi.”

Patton hurriedly got to his feet, gobsmacked as he stared at Roman’s face and colored cheek. “Y-you… I, I mean… You!”

Who had to be Virgil also got to his feet, looking from one to the other, a small smile on his face as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, something darker flickering briefly in his eyes.

Roman finally found his voice. “I… this wasn’t what I was planning… I was gonna have flowers and stuff for you, make it romantic, but…” he was visibly holding himself back from glomping his Mate. “This is something like out of a movie where they just run into each other!”

Patton, both hands now clamped over his mouth, eyes wide, could only nod.

Roman took a step closer, arms extended. “Patton, can I… can I hug y – ?” he did not get to finish, because Patton stepped forwards, flinging his arms around Roman, and burst into tears.

Logan was torn between being happy for his cousin finally meeting his Soulmate, the person he was destined to be with, and being… sad. He was losing his one and only friend, and… he was seeing the start of what he himself had rejected all those years ago. Part of him was still glad he had done so, and that part of him stood by those reasons.

But a growing part of himself was wishing he hadn’t, but that part also knew he would never get it, because it had been close to a year since his late had written anything, even a note, on their skin, and longer still since it had been any sort of message for Logan.

After all of his rejection, all those years… there was no way in Hells that they would take him now. They would – did – hate him, and would never, ever talk to him. Of those things, Logan was very, very sure.

Roman and Patton were still embracing, Roman trying to get Patton to stop crying when Virgil’s phone dinged. He made a face as he picked up his bookbag, grimacing as he saw how much blue highlighter was on his palm.

“I gotta go to class,” he said to Logan as he shouldered his bag. “You’re Logan, Roman’s cousin, right?” When Logan nodded he continued, “Can tell Patton I had to go to class but that I’ll see him later? And I gotta get this blue off, the teacher’ll be pissed if I try and handle animals with that one me.” He paused, something akin to pain flashed in his eyes. “And tell him… I’m so, so happy for him.”

Logan nodded. “Sure, Virgil, I’ll tell him.”

After Virgil left, Logan returned to his and Roman’s belongings – the two newly-met Soulmates were finally seated on the ground and were talking – and as he reached out for his math textbook a flash of color caught his attention.

Blue.

There was blue on his palm. Blue _highlighter._

The dots quickly connected in Logan’s genius mind: V, V for Virgil, not Victoria. The songs he had heard last night at The Unseen’s performance and later on on Youtube, ‘Anxiety’s’ anger, raw, hot, and heavy, towards his Soulmate in his words and songs, the Soulmate who had rejected him, and the anger of his friends and fellow bandmates.

_Logan_ had rejected him.

He hated him, even if he didn't know his name, and how they were, by law, going to be related. They were going to be spending time together. How was he going to keep this hidden?

Logan had to sit down.

Seriously… what were the freaking odds?!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's another short one. The song written by Virgil is MINE. Linkin Park song is called 'Blackbirds'.
> 
> Trigger Warning: anxiety, depression, anxiety attack, references to Virgil's assault, self harm.
> 
> Political warning!! I'm bringing politics into this. I'm in the USA, and it's getting fucking nuts here. I'm lesbian; my wife is transgender. The numbers of people saying we're not really people and don't deserve rights - or that we should be rounded up - are growing, and with the Orange in the white house giving his a-okay to people to go after poc, immigrants, and non-christians, they're already starting to come after us, too. If any of you get pissed at me for that, go read something else. If you're a loving, empathic person, then take Virgil's advice in this chapter. Please.
> 
> "When they came for me, no one was left to protest." Don't wait. Fucking protest the shit out of yourself. Protect those different from you. Protect those like you. Fucking PROTECT.

Roman didn’t return to their apartment after his last class – if he even went, which Logan was betting he hadn’t – stating in a hurried text message that he and Patton were going out on their first date.

That suited Logan just fine – he wanted to be alone and didn’t need Roman poking his nose into Logan’s room repeatedly about one thing or another. He needed time to think, to try and force his thoughts back into the logical order he usually kept his mind in.

Virgil, _Virgil_ , his cousin’s Soulmate’s adopted brother, was Logan’s.

What were the freaking odds of that? His mind was too jumbled to work the statistics out, but it was pretty damn minuscule ( _not_ infinitesimal).

There was no way any of them could find out. If they did…

Logan winced. Roman was still upset with him over his choice to cut his Soulmate out of his life. If he were to find out that Mate was _Virgil_ …

Patton, just as emotional as Roman as far as Logan had been able to ascertain, would probably react in kind after demanding that he apologize to Virgil. From everything he had gathered the cheerful boy could become a beast if he needed to protect Virgil.

And Virgil…

Well, his music spoke for itself, did it not? He hated him… not that Logan could blame him in the least. And should it come out that he wasn’t ‘Soulless’ as everyone but Roman knew, that he had rejected the Soulmate Virgil would probably give anything to have… after all of the pain he had suffered…

Of course, that train of thought took off in its own direction.

Everything, every bruise, every cruel word Virgil had suffered from society to bullies had a very large part to do with them thinking – incorrectly – that Virgil was Soulless. That was Logan’s fault.

_Logan’s._

He could remember clearly the worst of it, when Patton had called Roman after Virgil had been attacked and was in the hospital. Beaten, assaulted, cut…

Not to mention his anxiety and depression the other boy had suffered since he was little; even some – but not all – of what he had suffered at the hands of his ‘birth parents’ could be laid in front of Logan, again for the reason they believed Virgil to be Soulless.

Logan ran his hands through his short hair again, groaning in frustration before ripping the tie off from around his neck and flinging it into the general direction of his clothing hamper. He flopped back onto his bed and covered his face with his hands.

It was his fault. Not wholly, other fault could be blamed on the unpleasant parts of society and their view of Soulless individuals, but a very large part was still on Logan, and the studious young adult could admit that even if he hated it. He had never thought about his actions; that was the problem. All he had thought about was how he refused to go through the pain and loss that he had watched his parents go through.

He had not stopped to think about how much his rejection of his Mate would hurt them personally, not to mention how they would be treated. Yes, he had been just a little kid – albeit a genius so he should have thought of this but still – when he had made that decision. In hindsight, Logan supposed he should have written a rejection on himself instead of just ignoring all the messages that Virgil had sent him. That was what some of the adults did who had children in the Free Soul Movement. Perhaps then fate would have been kinder to Virgil than it had been.

But hindsight was always twenty-twenty, wasn’t it?

But it was his fault… and yet Fate, Karma, the Universe, whatever the Hells matched people up with their Mate or Mates had seen fit to punish the wrong person in this situation. Time and time again it had been Virgil, not Logan, who had suffered.

It wasn’t fair.

But there was no way for him to change what he had done now, all he could do was keep up the charade until he finished school or transferred, and then he just had to avoid Virgil as much as he could until the day he died.

Right?

But for the time being, how was he going to hide something like this? It wasn’t like he could tell any of them. Ever. It helped some that he rarely wore anything other than full sleeves to maintain the appearance he liked – and to hide anything his Soul – Virgil – may write or draw.

Gods, why did it have to get so complicated?

A shower did nothing to help clear his thoughts. If anything – as showers seemed to do – his thoughts continued to spin in circles.

While he was getting his pajamas on, Logan’s phone dinged an alert.

He thought about ignoring it; but he didn’t.

That morning he had looked up all of The Unseen’s members and followed them on Youtube and Facebook.

The alert – shit – was for Anxiety, posting a live feed.

Logan yanked his shirt over his head before slumping onto his bed.

The live feed showed Anxiety wearing one of his typical sweatshirts and black pants, but instead of delicate makeup he merely wore a black leather masquerade mask. He was seated at what Logan suspected was his desk; the background was most likely his bedroom but the light did little to show it.

“Hey guys, gals, non-binary pals,” he said, his voice jumbled by the voice modifier. “Um, well, you know we usually only do group streams, but…” he trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “I just… needed to do something tonight other than just… think.”

Below the video, several fans were ‘shouting’ hello in the chat.

**Hello!**

**Love you guys!**

**You ok, Anx?**

**Hello from Japan!**

**What’s wrong?**

“Well… a few things.” Virgil replied. “I’ll start with the bad news.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know how much of the USA politics you guys in or out of that States pay attention to, but there’s talk of removing certain people from society.”

**What?! Who?**

**OMG, I saw that! Stay safe!**

**I’m in Ireland, what’s going on over there?**

“There’s talk of rounding up people…. People like me. People who are Soulless, whether they’re truly Soulless or rejected, and… sterilizing them.”

Logan blinked. What?!

**What?! That’s fucked up!**

**What does that mean?**

**No way!**

**Messed up!**

**It means making so they can’t have children**

“Like…” Virgil leaned forwards a bit to look at his screen. “HunterWinchester666 said, make it so we can’t have children; don’t want Soulless people making more Soulless. And that’s just the start of it. If they immigrated here, legally or illegally, no matter who they are or if they’re married, they’ll get deported back to their origin country, regardless of if it’s somewhere who still experiments or even exterminates people like them.” He paused. “People like me.”

**There are places that still do that?!**

**That’s sick!**

**Shit!**

**Get outta there, Anx!**

**What can we do?!**

**Come to Canada!**

**Or Norway! We have protections!**

Virgil smiled a little. “Thanks, guys, that means a lot. As for what you can do, if you’re in the US, stand up against what is wrong. Call your local and federal representatives. Outside of the US, keep on eye on your politicians. Make sure they are doing the right thing for all people, not just the Elite and Noble Families who try to line their pockets. And no matter where you are… if you see someone being bullied – whether it’s for being Soulless, for being Muslim, or people of color, being Trans, being Poly, I don’t give a shit. Stand up for them. Get them somewhere safe. Do what you have to do to be the good that should be all over this planet but isn’t. Because if you are silent, you are on their side, not ours. If you don’t stand up for us, who will in turn stand up for you someday?”

**Yes!**

**My friends and are here with me. We’re already working to start a local group to guard the Mosque down the road! It was spray-painted last week!**

**So true!**

**Anx for President! Out with the Orange Thing!**

**You sure have a way with words, Anxiety <3**

**OMG we have a Mosque in my city! I’ll find out about making sure they aren’t bothered.**

**We had an LGBTQI homeless shelter torched a few months ago.**

**Keep an eye on your poc friends! My uncle’s business was vandalized.**

**You’re amazing, Anxiety.**

On an on it went. Plans around the world to help out locally with a wide variety of projects; some even international, such as talking to their politicians and writing letters to their leaders about opening their borders to refugees fleeing countries that condemned Soullessness. Logan had to admit that he was rather impressed that some of the people he had seen in that club were these same types of people willing to do something to help people they didn’t know.

Perhaps he would even look into seeing if any groups were in his area.

“All of you, keep being amazing, you got it?” said Virgil, catching Logan’s attention again. “On to some good news… well, if you’re here, you probably know about me. Today was rather… bittersweet for me. Whirlwind, my brother… he randomly bumped into his Soulmate at school today. I’m happy for him, but…” he didn’t continue.

**OMG Anxiety I’m so sorry…**

**Congrats Whirlwind!**

**Aww that’s awesome for W!**

**Your Mate’s loss!**

**Love from the UK!**

**More love from Florida!**

Guilt stabbed deeper into Logan’s chest.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll pass it on to my brother.” Virgil reached out of screen sight for a moment, grabbing his guitar. “I have something I’m working on, and just wanted to see what you all thought of it. Scream already recorded their stuff for it, so that’s what’ll be playing in the background. Keep in mind this is still a work in progress, and this is only part of the song. It’s also somewhat tied to what we were discussing earlier about differences being viewed as something to condemn and hate.”

Virgil tapped a few keys, and intro music started, a mixture of drums and electric, similar to The Unseen’s song ‘Atone’ from last night’s performance. Virgil started playing, his fingers dancing over the strings before he started to sing.

“I’ve had people come up and tell me

‘I would never wish your situation on anybody

I could never be so cruel’

I tell them I wish Karma was such a tool

Because maybe then there wouldn’t be so many victims

Of hateful abuse and a broken system

Built and run by those in power

Ruling high up in their golden tower

Maybe then there wouldn’t be so many dead

From fear, hate, and blood so red

Maybe then there wouldn’t be so many hiding

From a society so dividing

And maybe then we wouldn’t bury the broken

Who took their lives because of hate spoken

Stop with the threats of damnation and hell

We don’t want what you’re trying to sell

Who cares about different religion or skin

Can we just start over again

And let me ask you this

Because I don’t see anything amiss

What about me and my life is so bad

That you seem to think I should be sad

That you think I should be kicked out or dead

Just based on what some old book said

Is it because I’m different than you

Something unusual, scary or new

Don’t you see we’re just all trying our best

Who cares about our differences give it a rest.”

Virgil stopped singing, played a few more bars on his guitar before stopping that as well and tapping his keyboard.

**Loved it, Anx!**

**Great start! Can’t wait to hear it completed!**

**In concert!**

**Speaking truths!**

**We’ll have an anthem for our movements!**

**Amazing as always, Anxiety!**

Virgil managed a smile. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot. Not sure when it’ll be finished, but it will be at some point.” He reached over and turned the support music off. “I suppose I’d better let you all go; I have some homework I gotta do, too.”

**Encore! Encore!**

**Yes!**

**Please, Anx!**

“Ok, ok, I think I can manage that.” Virgil tapped the body of his guitar thoughtfully for a few moments. “Ok. This is a Linkin Park song some of you may never have heard,” he said suddenly, hitting a key on his keyboard – Logan assumed it was his voice modifier. He didn’t say another word, just started playing. It was far more gentle than his previous song.

“I shiver and shake the warm air cold

I’m alone on my own

In every mistake I dig this hole

Through my skin and bones

It’s harder starting over

Than never to have changed

With blackbirds following me

I’m digging out my grave

They close in, swallowing me

The pain, it comes in waves

I’m getting back what I gave

I sweat through the sheet as daylight fades

As I waste away

It traps me inside mistakes I’ve made

That’s the price I pay

It’s harder starting over

than never to have changed

With blackbirds following me

I’m digging my own grave…”

Virgil’s voice caught; he hands froze on the guitar.

**Anx? You ok hon?**

**Anxiety!**

**Breathe man, breathe!**

Logan felt his gut tighten painfully as he watched Virgil curl over his guitar until it slipped from his lap onto the floor. His shoulders were shaking.

“I – I can’t…” he voice was unmodified; he hadn’t turned the setting on his computer back on. “S-sorry… I can’t…”

He reached over and shut off the feed.

Comments from worried fans continued to pour into the comment section below the halted video as Logan watched, guilt gnawing at Logan’s consciousness.

_Gods… what have I done…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to sterilization: Some countries, such as Japan, require a transgender person be sterilized before they can start transition. I don't know how well its inforced, but it is their law.
> 
> Brunei stones people to death for being LGBTQI, so do some other places. Same if a girl is raped; the guy or guys get no punishment. That or the girl is whipped and has to marry her rapist.
> 
> Like I said, I'm bringing politics into this and changing them to fit it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Aftermath of anxiety attack and self-harm (cutting)
> 
> Song that Trevor sings is mine.

 Virgil woke up on the bathroom floor, both arms tacky with blood to the point they were mildly stuck to the laminate bathroom floor. He groaned as he sat up, the pain in his head warring with the lacerations on his forearms, spiking as he levered himself into an upright sitting position. He leaned against the wall, eyes still shut, dried tears prickling painfully at their corners; more tears threatened to fall.

_How did I get in here…_

Oh, yeah. He had been doing a livestream to distract himself from the nagging – digging, borrowing, ripping, tearing,  _excruciating_  – pain he was feeling after arriving home alone, Patton having sent him a text about going on a nice, long first date with Roman.

Thousands of fans had logged in all around the world. He wasn’t quite sure what possessed him, since he usually left politics out of his work – even though he had some political-esque songs he was working on – he started telling people what was going on, what the current ‘president’ was wanting to do to people like him and a good number of The Unseen’s fans. He urged them to band together or go it alone and do everything they could to be a light in a darkening world, to stand up for others and to fight back against the people screaming for the different and unusual to be removed. He wasn’t surprised some people already were walking female co-workers to their cars, or guarding mosques, or standing up against bullies in the middle of a supermarket. He was shocked when some of the people started finding other people in their area and making plans to write letters to public officials, or to create safe havens, or ways to get Soulless people into their country.

It honestly made him proud that there were people of his age – of all ages, really – willing to band together against the growing wave of white elitists within all Ranks who felt it was just fine to attack someone different than them.

He hoped they were able to help as many people as possible,  _save_  as many people as possible.

But he would not be one of them.

The pain in his chest had grown as he started singing, his fingers tracing the strings and eyes shut (hours and hours of insomnia and a headphone jack in one of his guitars helped a lot with muscle memory). He had made it through one and a half songs before he broke down and had to shut the feed down.

He must have come in here after that, and judging by the dryness of the blood on his arms at least a couple of hours ago.

Thank gods Patton was still out with Roman.   

Blindly, Virgil reached a hand out until it collided with the side of the sink. He eased onto his knees and pulled himself upright, grunting in pain as his most recent wounds reopened. Lip clenched between his teeth Virgil turned the water on and started rinsing the blood off of his hands, and then picking the crusted tears out of his eyes until he could finally open them.

**Why**

**Why**

**Why**

**Why**

**WHY**

**WHY**

The word glared repeatedly back up at him from his arms in weeping, crimson font on both his forearms and upper arms. Virgil sighed; it had been a while since he had actually cut a word instead of just lines. And yet none of the lines of the words crossed over the damned  _Soulless_  words still pink on his arms.

_At least they are all straight-lined letters… easier to patch up that way._

Doing his best to keep the additional drops of blood inside of the sink – the floor was going to be a lovely mess to clean up – Virgil slowly tore bits of tape to create small butterfly bandages and taped the sides of each letter together the best he could after cleaning the skin with antiseptic. Over that he wrapped rolls of gauze and stretch wrap with more bits of white tape to hold the edges down. He was dangerously low on supplies; he would have to make a run to the Walgreens three blocks over at some point or another. Hopefully Patton and Roman would go out again over the weekend and he could

He popped a double dose of his migraine pills, hoping it would do something for the pain in his arms…

… and ignored the niggling thought in the back of his head saying that taking the whole bottle would do a lot better at taking the pain away.

While he was returning to the bathroom after grabbing a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess on the bathroom floor he heard his phone ding. He thought about ignoring it but knew if it was Patton and he didn’t respond then Patton would worry.

**_[4:22PM] Heyyy I still can’t believe this! Of all the ways I imagined meeting Roman this wasn’t ANYWHERE on the list! Gaaaagg!_ **

**_[4:22PM] *Gaahhh. Oops!_ **

**_[4:49PM] Thank you for being happy for me, I know this is hard on you._ **

**_[4:50PM] Ro wants to take me out to dinner and a movie. Will be rather late getting back. Will try and keep quiet when I get back in case you manage to fall asleep._ **

**_[4:50PM] I love you, V, you know that, right? I love you. *huuugs*_ **

**_[6:15PM] And you thought_ ** **I _ate a lot of sugar? You should see Roman! He eats easily twice what I do!_**

**_[8:37PM] You ok?_ **

**_[8:37PM] Maybe you’re asleep. Hope so <3_ **

It was almost ten.

Virgil hurriedly set to cleaning up the blood on the floor, balling up all of the bloody paper towels inside of a plastic grocery bag which was stuffed under trash in the kitchen trash bin. He then lit a couple cones of incense in the bathroom and his room to cover up the smell of bleach. He put a couple drops of Patton’s bubble bath in the tub and ran the shower so it looked like he had taken a bath while he brushed his teeth.

Barely ten minutes after putting away his guitar, setting books about his bed and laying down so it would appear he had fallen asleep studying and squashing the guilt he felt at deceiving Patton – Patton did not need to deal with Virgil’s issues right now, not right after meeting his Mate and starting to truly be happy because if anyone deserved to be happy it was Patton – Virgil heard a key turn inside the lock. The door opened; someone giggled and made a shushing noise.

“Are you sure it’s ok?” someone who wasn’t Patton whispered.

“I think he’s asleep,” Patton replied, voice also hushed. “he usually returns my texts. Just leave your shoes by the door. Go sit down; I’m gonna go check on him.”

Soft footsteps down the hall; two sets.

Through carefully slitted eyes Virgil saw Patton and Roman peer around the corner of his partially-opened door. If he hadn’t been so drained and in pain and trying to avoid interacting with his brother Virgil would have found the sight comical.

“Thank gods,” Patton said softly as he padded over to the bed. “he hasn’t been sleeping well. He needs it.” Carefully, he picked up the books, notepad, pens, and highlighters scattered around Virgil’s body and set them aside on the nearby desk.

“Is that a new problem?” Roman asked, concerned, as he unfolded the purple weighted blanket at the foot of the bed and tucked it around Virgil’s curled up body. “Stress of school and such?”

Virgil heard Patton sigh. “No. It’s… he’s always had trouble sleeping. Nightmares, insomnia. He seemed to sleep better when he’d fall asleep in my bed, or I snuck into his growing up, or when we’d fall asleep watching TV. He...”

“He sleeps better with someone with him,” Roman said when Patton fell silent. Patton must have nodded because Roman continued, “His damn Soulmate did this to him, didn’t they? Their rejection and all of what followed.”

“In part,” replied Patton, tucking the blanket around Virgil and brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “His birth parents, too. But who knows if they would have treated him better had his Mate not rejected him.” He snorted softly. “Maybe we should try and get him and Logan to start dating; they both were rejected by their Soulmates. They’d be good for each other.”

“…Yeah,” Roman said after a moment. “C’mon, let’s leave before we wake him.”

Patton leaned down and placed a kiss on Virgil’s temple. “I love you, V. Sleep well.”

Virgil opened his eyes after the two boys had left, pulling the door shut softly behind them. He had grown to have a knack at being good at telling when someone was lying, even just by the tone and reflections of their voice.

Roman had been lying. But about what? That they should try and get Virgil and Logan to date? That they’d be good together, that they’d be cute?

…That Logan’s Soulmate had rejected him? But why would someone lie about that?

OoOoO

Virgil must have fallen asleep at some point. When he opened his eyes again the sun was trying to peek around the heavy curtains on his windows. His arms were heavy with pain, and his head was pounding as well. He would have rolled over, curled up again and fallen back asleep again – it was Saturday, after all – if his foot had not collided with something.

Patton was sitting at the foot of Virgil’s bed, his phone next to him next to a notebook and a schoolbook open in his lap.

“Pat?” Virgil asked, voice rough as his brain scrambled as to why Patton would be in here, because this was so not like Patton and coming up with nothing.

Patton did not look up at first; after a moment he placed a scrap of paper in the book to mark his place and set the book aside. But still, he did not say a word.

Virgil sat up, now going from confused to worried. “Pat? Did something happen with Roman?”

“No,” Patton said voice distant. “that went well. He’s all I could have ever hoped he was and more.”

Worry turned to fear; had he missed some blood? Had Patton found out about last night? “Then what’s wrong?”

Patton finally,  _finally_  looked up at him. “I saw your livestream,” he said, voice thick. “You broke down while singing.”

Regret wormed inside of Virgil’s stomach; he had thought about deleting it, but with all of the comments and chatter from The Unseen’s followers about their plans and encouraging each other he had chosen not to. “So I had an anxiety attack,” he said with a shrug, attempting to subtly tug down the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

“And you didn’t text me; you’ve promised me time and again that you would get ahold of me if you had one while we’re apart. You  _promised_  me!”

Virgil all but wilted under Patton’s ferocious glare. “You were on a date,” he said softly. “And…” Virgil wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted without sounding cruel. “Pat, you’ve found your  _Soulmate._  We… we knew this day was coming.”

Patton’s hands clenched into fists in his lap. “What, you think I suddenly won’t have time for you? That you don’t matter to me anymore? Or have you decided that you don’t need me?!”

“No, no!” Virgil shook his head. “I…” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “Sooner or later, you will move in together. I need to learn to deal with them on my own. I’m doing… ok.”

Patton snorted humorlessly. “Oh, really? Roll up your sleeves.”

Virgil froze. “Pat, please,” he whispered. “please don’t. I’m… I’m learning to manage on my own; it’s gonna take me a little while to not… slip.”

“But that’s not now!” argued Patton, crawling over until their knees were touching and placing a hand over Virgil’s own. “And maybe by that time you’ll have found someone to be with, someone who can be there for you and help you through them!”

A pang of pain shot through Virgil; now Patton was starting to sound like their parents. “And what if I don’t want to find someone?” he asked softly, fingers playing with the cuffs of his shirt. “What if I want to be alone?”

Patton scowled. “You need someone, Virgil; you deserve someone!”

“If I deserved someone then Fate and the universe would’ve given me a Mate who wanted me!” Virgil retorted, thoughts and suppressed emotions fighting to get free. “Maybe it’s me that’s the problem, did you ever think of that? Maybe we didn’t see that blue ink! Maybe I really  _am_  Soulless! And if  _Fate_  doesn’t see fit to give me a Mate then why the hells would I force myself onto someone else?!”

“That’s a lie.” Patton’s voice was firm even as it shook. “I  _know_  you, V; I know you are worth it. Just as I know we both saw that blue ink! So what they didn’t want you; that’s their loss! You can still find someone to share your life with, V.”

Virgil sighed; he was so, so tired. “Maybe I don’t want to, Patton. Maybe I want to be alone.” He laid down.

Patton got to his feet. “No one should be alone, V. Especially not you.”

Virgil looked up at his brother. “Why, don’t you trust me?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t because I love you, and because I don’t want to lose you to yourself.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “You obviously have a migraine; get some rest, V. I’ll go grab you your meds. I’m going to go meet Roman for lunch, but if you need anything, and I mean  _anything_ , you text me, got it?”

Patton disappeared briefly into the bathroom and returned with one of Virgil’s migraine pills and a cup of fresh water. He stayed long enough to make sure he took the medication before silently gathering up his school book and leaving, closing the door softly behind him.

After he left, Virgil thought  _Too late. I’m already lost._

OoOoO

Roman must have arrived back at their apartment well after Logan had gone to bed; the door was shut when the spectacled boy got up at seven; shoes were cast aside by the door, and his coat was draped over the back of the couch instead of hung up on one of the hooks behind the door. Logan was tempted to leave the items where they were and make Roman pick up after himself, but after tripping over one of the shoes when he returned to his room for a forgotten book he kicked them out of the way into the closet and hung the coat on his appropriate hook.

It was almost nine-thirty when Logan heard the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on. Twenty minutes later Roman stumbled into the living-dining room and stared at the coffee pot as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it for several long moments before retrieving his mug and creamer.

“Late night?” Logan asked drily as Roman plopped himself down across from him.

Roman nodded as he tried to pull his phone out of his pocket only to drop it onto the floor. “I think so,” he said after picking the phone up. “Dinner, movie, and a lot of talking. Then I took him home, we t – ” he paused to yawn. “talked some more, and I came home.”

Logan hesitated briefly. “Was Virgil still up?”

“No, why?” Roman asked with a cocked eyebrow. “You like him?”

Logan bit down on the panic in the back of his throat. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted. “I was checking The Unseen out online and happened to catch him doing a livestream on Facebook. He had an anxiety attack partway through and cut the stream.”

Roman was frowning. “He was asleep when we got there,” he replied. “Patton was surprised that he was sleeping; apparently he has had insomnia and nightmares since he was little.” He opened his mouth to say more but stopped himself, instead taking a long sip of his coffee.

Panic turned to guilt. “From the torment he suffered from the rejection of his Mate, you mean. You don’t need to tiptoe around it for my sake, Roman.” He turned his attention back to his schoolbook. “I know I should have done it differently, and if I’m being honest part of me does regret my choice to reject my Mate. But a larger” – and shrinking by the hour – “part of me still stands with my choice. I… I can’t go through what my parents went through, Roman,” his voice became a whisper. “you told me you understood.”

Roman chewed on his lip. “I still do,” he said slowly. “but with everything we know Virgil went through because his Mate rejected him, how do we know yours isn’t suffering the same?”

It was now more than ever that Logan was grateful that he had never told Roman that his Mate’s name started with the letter V. “We don’t, I suppose,” he replied, voice still soft. “but despite the current political climate more and more people are accepting those who are Soulless, or rejected by their Mate, especially since the exact numbers of the Free Soul Movement are being shown to be much larger than originally thought, so some say that those who are thought to be Soulless are just Bound to someone within that Movement.”

His argument sounded weak even to his ears.

“Patton wanted to hook the two of you up,” Roman said out of the blue. “I don’t know if he was joking or not.” Correctly reading the look on Logan’s face, he continued, “I’m going to try and steer him away from it. Tell him you’re asexual or something.”

Logan cocked an eyebrow. “Which is technically the truth.”

Roman nodded. “Just… try and be civil to Virgil at least, will you? I won’t break my promise to you, to either of them, not even Pat. But at least be nice to him, please. We know some of the hell he went through… and I’m willing to bet there’s a lot more.”

_You don’t know the half of it,_  Logan thought as he pretended to return his attention to his studies.

OoOoO

Sunday evening found Roman and Patton dragging Logan with them to another performance of The Unseen, taking them into the cordoned off area where family and friends could sit behind the curtain. It was, once again, an epileptic friendly night, and it was earlier to make sure students would be back home at a reasonable hour. They all wore their typical dramatic clothing and makeup or masks; they even all have painted their nails a matching poison green. A peek out at the crowd showed a few with masks of their own. Some wore shirts or marks on their skin saying #TheUnseenGuard, a now-trending tag for the people who had taken Virgil’s words as a call to arms. Logan had already seen a group of them in the news standing with arms linked in front of a black Church in the south, and another group escorting people in and out of a Planned Parenthood. A third group had stood guard around a Mosque. Many still didn’t understand where the trend had originated, and more called for the banning of the group’s music and arresting the members, stating it was undermining God’s Word.

Idiots.

More power to them, in Logan’s opinion.

Logan watched as Virgil and someone introduced as Joan/Scream helped Talyn/Viking out of their wheelchair and into their usual seat and hidden fastened on their outfit were connected to the chair as a sort of safety harness to keep them in their chair. One of the other band members handed them their guitar as the rest took their usual places. Virgil seemed to be in pain, to Logan’s unfamiliar gaze, and he noticed Patton watching him with concern. Even Talyn grabbed his wrist before he walked away from them, pulling him close to whisper something in his ear. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. Talyn pressed the back of his hand to their cheek before releasing him to take his position.

The curtain fell.

They opened with a duet from ‘Evanescence’ and ‘Seether’ called  _Broken_  performed by Virgil and Victoria.

Next, Trevor/Shadow, the dark-skinned base player stepped forwards. “Well, my friends finally convinced me to share one of my songs,” he said with a shrug. “I was kicked out of my religious’ family’s home for being Soulless.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd; some shouted ‘I love you’ and ‘your family’s loss!’ and other supportive words.

“Thanks, friends,” Trevor said with a genuine smile. “For a while… I was in a pretty bad place. I did drugs to escape and got myself into some pretty bad situations as a result. But finally, I met V,” he turned to look at Victoria behind her drums. “She helped me to get clean. This song is about my own demons during that time.”

He tried to go back to his usual spot but Virgil waved his hand for Trevor to keep center stage. The song as they started playing wasn’t as loud and energetic as a lot of their songs but even the music sounded a balance of scared and sad; Trevor’s voice was a bit deeper than Virgil’s, as well, but he was still quite good.

“Sitting in my darkened room

Wondering why I even bother with this charade anymore

My life is slowly falling apart

Too tired to try and pick up the pieces.

Unending pain within what’s left of my heart

Wish I could put my mind on something else

Something that leaves no outward signs

 

Running down an unending hallway

Lights flicker on and off above my head

Breathing is hard, painful

But I don’t want to stop

This pain is an escape from my darkened room

This is pain that leaves no scars for others to see

No scars to tell the world that I’m not alright

 

Sirens wail behind me but when I look nothing is there

Why are they chasing me?

I haven’t done anything to anyone but myself

The spies always follow me home from my runs

Walking silently through the shadows of the hall

Can’t ever see them but I know they’re there

Why can’t they just leave me alone?

 

At the end of the hall there is a lone house with darkened windows

One of them is mine

The others are a mystery I cannot solve

Slip onto the first story roof and through the window I left ajar

While I went running to end the pain

And to cause it

Causing to create an escape

 

Running from and yet with my demons

Sometimes I think they’re working with the spies

Just so one of them is always with and within me

They’re calling, whispering to me words I don’t want to hear

So I just close my eyes and ears

Ignore them and run away again

Wondering why they even bother

That is a question I ponder while running

 

My feet take me down a wooded road

The shadows between the trees are moving

Then know I haven’t lost the spies or the demons

This is what I get for letting my feet chose the path

While allowing my mind to wander

Won’t make that mistake again

I hope  

 

Sky is darkening as dawn approaches

I know what you’re thinking;

Darkness when the sun is coming?

The light is blinding after my darkened room

Tried to shield my eyes

And ended up falling further down

The always changing hall I am running through

 

Can barely breathe as I keep running

The sun moves and shadows dance

Giving both the spies and demons places to hide

As they follow me still

Tried to lose them so many times

Thought I had finally lost them when I fell

Guess I was wrong

 

The scene around me changes again and I pause

But just for a moment

Then I realize that I never truly left the hall

The flickering lights are still there

If you look closely enough

Someone was merely changing the walls

Playing with my mind

 

Awake from a dark dream in my pitch-black room

But the growling continues even now that I wake

Takes me a long moment to realize that it’s all in my head

Looking out I see a blood-red sky behind black tree cutouts

Dawn has come again

It’s time to go running again

Care to join me and end your own pain?

 

As I pause in my running a moment is lost

Tossed a stone into a pond

The ripples travel inwards instead of out

And it is then that I realize

That another friendship has been lost

A picture is slowly unfolding

As I run faster than I thought I could away

 

But now I feel nothing matters anymore

Close my window and curtains to stop the spies

And the demons

Despite all those measures they still manage to slip into my room

Always staying within the shadows

I can see and hear them

Just can’t fight them

 

The walls are changing yet again

Haven’t seen clearly this way in gods knows when

Don’t know if it’s a trick from the spies and demons

Seems almost too good to be true

Do I dare reach out and grasp the vision

Step out from the shadows myself and

See if I can finally fly free.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS!! Nightmares, abuse, rape, violence, murder, prejudice, bullying. mainly in the 'news' section.

 

Logan managed to avoid Virgil all week by studying in hallways waiting for classrooms to open up since Roman mentioned Virgil and Patton were in the library. He knew he had to figure out a better method of avoiding his Soulmate as much as possible, the sooner the better.

Too bad Roman invited both Patton and Virgil over that weekend because apparently Patton had never played video games and that was something his cousin felt he had to correct immediately (with a Disney movie marathon to come afterward of course). Logan moved to leave the kitchen and return to his room to study when a shout halted him.

“Don’t you dare go run off to your room!”

Roman planted himself in the hallway leading to their bedrooms, hands on his hips. “Stay out here and be social, damnit! Even if you have your nose buried in a book! Virgil won’t be playing, either, since he has to wear a brace.”

Logan had been about to tell Roman off when his last words registered. “What happened?”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Some other student shoved him while he was going down stairs at school and his twisted it pretty good. He has to wear a brace so it can heal. They have another performance in a couple of weeks.”

“Did this other student get into trouble?” Logan asked, frowning.

Roman rolled his eyes. “She claimed that she slipped and bumped into him when he suddenly halted on the stairs, so nothing’s being done. Stupid Elitist cunt,” he added with a mutter.

“Fine,” Logan said, sighing. “Can I get by you and get my school things at least?”

Roman stepped to the side with a dramatic bow and sweeping wave of his hand. “But of course, Sir Brainiac,” he said with a grin. The doorbell rang as he finished speaking. “I’ve got it!” he called as he bounced his way to the front door.

Logan shook his head as he heard his cousin open the door. _Way too much sugar._

Not that he was one to talk when his ‘drug’ of choice was caffeine but he at least didn’t bounce off the walls like a toddler who ate all of his Halloween candy.

When he returned a few minutes later books in hand he found Roman and Patton on the floor amid most of the pillows in the house and Roman explaining the game and controller to Patton, who seemed confused but eager to learn. Virgil was curled up almost cat-like on one corner of the sofa, typical zip-up hoodie and beanie in place, one ear covered with his headphones as he wrote out flashcards based off of his notebook. He looked up briefly and nodded a hello to Logan as Logan hesitantly took the other seat on the sofa; it _was_ his usual spot and if he sat elsewhere Roman would want to know why, and he was doing his best to _not_ draw attention to his avoidance of Virgil even if that meant he had to occasionally sit next to the other young man.

As it turned out, it wasn’t so bad. Kind of. Roman started Patton out on an easy game (Lego Batman where they could play Batman and Robin together) and Virgil continued making his flashcards, some of which had pictures that appeared to be from a microscope.

“What are you studying?” Logan asked finally after his curiosity got the better of him.

Virgil looked up, surprised for a moment before he answered, “Different types of diseases, terminology, and parasites.” He held up a picture that was something similar in shape to a football. “This is a hookworm egg. Animals can get it but so can people through oral contact with contaminated f – ”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Patton interrupted, talking through a mouth full of pizza. “None of that talk while we’re eating, thank you very much!”

Virgil’s mouth quirked. “I’m sure you can guess the next word. Though, you can also get them through skin contact with contaminated areas, such as walking barefoot in your yard.”

Logan nodded. “True, a lot of internal parasites are transmitted… that way, but it is interesting to know there is one which can go through the skin. Is it a local parasite?”

“Yep,” replied Virgil. “we found some eggs in the… test… we ran on one of the shelter dogs at school. She’s being treated for them now.”

Patton looked back at them. “Wait, there are  _dogs_ at school?!”

“Yes, they just arrived. Dogs, cats, rabbit and other rodents, horses, cows, and goats.”

Patton’s jaw was on the floor; on screen, his character died. “All in your program? Can we see them?!”

“I’ll check what the visiting hours are and can see the cats and some of the dogs,” he replied with a chuckle. “Those are up for adoption from some of the local animal shelters.” He paused. “The three beagles are from the local laboratory. Whatever experiment they were in didn’t require necropsies.”

“Some do?!” Patton’s eyes were huge. “Those are still legal?!”

Virgil’s jaw ticked. “Yeah. And not just on dogs. Rodents, dogs, cats, monkeys. But more and more people are pushing for cruelty-free testing, so some companies have stopped.”

Patton’s scowl remained. “How do you know which ones still do this?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to buy their stuff if they hurt poor animals!” Roman had jumped to his feet. “How dare they?!”

“I’m sure there are several online websites dedicated to listing such companies,” Logan replied when Virgil froze, the barely noticeable flinch at Roman’s exuberance.

“Well, good!” Roman threw himself back down onto the mound of pillows. “I don’t want to give asshats like that any more of money!”

Patton and Virgil shared a look; Patton gave his brother a small smile-grimace, his fisted hand making a small circle on his chest; Virgil responded by making shapes with one hand before sliding his headphones completely over both ears and returning to his schoolwork, body ever so slightly more tightly curled. A brief look of sadness entered Patton’s face before he laid back down next to Roman, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

OoOoO

The next couple of months followed somewhat the same pattern, though Logan was at least able to study in the library, even going so far as to share a table with Virgil even when Patton and Roman were not there. Some of the ‘social’ meetings he was able to escape – especially when they were not at his and Roman’s apartment – by stating he had to study for tests. Other times Roman and Patton would go out on their own.

Occasionally Logan would sneak into a performance by The Unseen with a mask on, something he told no one about. And when they announced they had made two music videos, one of their own work and one a cover of another band, he had to check them out as he got home.

He didn’t have a problem… did he?

Their own Rejects Wanted song was both sad and angering. All the ‘characters’ wore the typical intricate masks, all bearing either the letter ‘C’, ‘E’ or ‘N’ on the forehead. The main ‘characters’ were Virgil and Talyn, both of whom were being bullied in school until Joan, Brittney, and Trevor stood up to the bullies (who were wearing armbands of the up-and-coming group of Purist Elitist group – though many Commons were also joining –  called Pure America) after two tried to dump Talyn out of their wheelchair and pined Virgil to the wall when he tried to stop them. Together, they stood up against the rest of the bullying going in the school. At the end there was a list of help hotlines for things ranging from suicide, abuse, bullying, and how to various support groups.

The second one was ‘Don’t Jump’ by Tokio Hotel. Trevor was the main character, his face a mess of stubble, dirt, bruises, and dried blood; he wore no mask, though with everything done to his face it masked it well enough. His clothes were in just as a bad of a state as the rest of him so Logan had to assume he was homeless – perhaps he had been at one point, he had been kicked out because he was Soulless – and he seemed to be… suicidal. Victoria appeared to be playing a guardian spirit, her face done up in lovely fantastical makeup, trying her best to save him while Virgil and Talyn performed the vocals and instrumentals, appearing randomly in the background wearing their typical masks.

Logan lost count of how many times he watched them over the weekend while Roman took Patton home to meet his family, and listening to their music over and over while studying. He finally had to put up a new open tab so he would stop looking at Virgil’s face.

And that ‘opened a whole new can of worms’…

Guilt.

Disgust.

Pain.

Fear.

Shame.

Horror.

Should he?

No.

He couldn’t.

He had promised himself.

Never.

He turned his computer off.

He had nightmares all weekend of his parents, co-mingled with a few of him ‘coming out’ to Virgil and Virgil (and Roman and Patton) all hating him and telling him he should go die.

After that he found it easier to keep a wall up inside of himself and focus wholly on his studies, he kept a cool distance between himself and the others and used any and all excuses he could to avoid Virgil, and Roman was too obsessed with spending time with Patton to notice Logan’s behavior.

Months went by.

Both The Unseen Guard and Pure America gained ground. Religious buildings, Planned Parenthood, and community centers kept being guarded and vandalized; a few had been torched.

A former marine drove his car into a group of Muslim women walking on the sidewalk with their children.

A serial killer in Chicago raped, killed, and dismembered fifteen trans women before he was caught; he claimed his kill count was at least twenty-two; he had lost count.

Three high school Senior girls killed their Soulless classmate.

Several Soulless teens and adults had gone missing in Texas and Oklahoma; only four bodies had been found that had been able to be identified, all branded with an ‘S’ on their chests.

California, Washington, and Colorado opened sanctuary shelters for anyone who needed them, guarded by local police and Unseen Guard members who would stay outside. New York and Iowa were in the process of doing the same.

Pure America became more and more open with their hatred and attacks as the president called them ‘very good people’.

Canada was starting to implement their own Sanctuary and Asylum laws to help both Soulmate and Soulless teens kicked out of their homes; members of the Unseen Guard would make ‘railroads’ and drive people from the southern States to the Canadian border.

Pure America members stalked nightclubs for Soulless and Poly-Souled; one had been set on fire while still open.

Another Pure America member took guns into an LGBT/Soulless club in Florida and went on a shooting spree, killing close to thirty people and injuring several more.

Norway, Italy, Denmark, and Switzerland opened their borders to Soulless and Poly-Souled, and Unseen Guards along the borders were actually going into some countries such as the Ukraine and Turkey and smuggling them to safety.

Five smugglers had already been executed.

Things kept getting worse.

The Unseen Guard across the States – and the world – made plans for a synchronized protest and die-in in protest of the government’s lack of action to protect its people and even outright support for the Purifying groups which were not only in the States but some other countries as well. People had decided enough was enough.

OoOoO

Red stained white.

Bits of glass refracted sunlight.

Sirens screamed where there had been silence.

Embraces where there had been linked arms.

Hushed voices where there had been song.

Grief and rage mingled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this might be the last update for a month or so on this fic. We're stuck between a rock and a hard place and are either losing this house and moving back in with my mom, or stretching money beyond the breaking point to stay here and she will be moving in with us. So either we'll be helping her go through her tons and tons of shit, or we'll be packing and moving in with her.   
> If I can update sooner I will!  
> Love you all!
> 
> And here's a line from the next chapter, just to let you know I am working on it!
> 
> “Three people drove SUVs into the rally downtown! They’re already saying two people are dead and several more are hurt. If you know anyone who was going, call them!!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS!!! hate, Soullessphobia, discrimination, MAJOR violence, domestic terrorism/white supremacism, physical violence, bodily injury, hospitals, panic attacks, vehicular violence, and probably more I'm not thinking of. If you see something, let me know!

 

Red stained white.

Bits of glass refracted sunlight.

Sirens screamed where there had been silence.

Embraces where there had been linked arms.

Hushed voices where there had been song.

Grief and rage mingled together.

OoOoO

His name was Nigel Shale*. He was 16. He committed suicide after being bullied at school for being Soulless, even though it was documented that his Soulmate had been killed in a car accident when he was three years old.

He wasn’t the first, and he wouldn’t be the last. But he was the most recent.

Others like him had been attacked; a few more were dead.

The government did nothing as Purify America (formerly Pure America and Purify the Blood) and a new group calling themselves The Cleansing Ones gained more and more ground and their numbers grew.

The president all but condoned it; sometimes he actually did.

Roman chose to accompany Patton, Virgil, and the other members of The Unseen to a protest at the Madison Capital building, the set date for the literal universal protest and die-in.

Countless protests were taking place all over the United States today. Teens and college students were skipping school; people were calling in sick to work. Parents were even bringing their children. Not all of them were rabid followers of The Unseen but enough of them were, the protest was organized by some of the first Unseen Guard members. Other attendees were upset and pissed off at what was happening; others had a family member or friend suffer at the hands of Purify America and The Cleansing Ones or people who liked their beliefs or had been victims themselves.

They came knowing they could get in trouble, arrested, jailed. They came knowing they could get hurt, or worse, depending on where in the world they were. They came knowing counter-protesters from Purify America and The Cleansing Ones would be there.

They came anyway.

Many, many wore masks both plain and ornate, bought and handmade.

More wore armbands with #TUG and #TheUnseenGuard on them.

There were enough people to link arms around the capital building three times over.

Behind them, on the other side of the street, a spattering of police officers manned the barriers keeping the white supremacist counter-protesters at bay – some of which were Cleansing members –  screaming their words at them, calling for all Soulless to be rounded up, that people of color belonged in the dirt, that they were scum, should be locked away, disposed of, forced into slavery, and worse.

They ignored them as best they could.

No one seemed to realize the real band members were present other than Talyn, who had been banned by all from coming in case the supremacists got violent; it helped that they all were going without masks.

Patton was frightened, tucked between Roman and Virgil. A nervous young man in a green mask linked arms with Virgil on his other side.

“Don’t worry, love,” Roman whispered. “They wouldn’t dare try something here other than their words.”

Patton nodded as they linked arms. “Still… I just can’t believe how much hatred people can have.”

Virgil tightened his arm around Patton’s briefly in wordless support.

Someone, somewhere in one of the lines started singing and it was taken up by any who knew the lyrics.

_“- don’t lock us up in a cage_

_We are the outcasts_

_The weirdos_

_The losers_

_Those society brands with a scarlet letter_

_They try and take us out – ”_

They were singing to the acoustic version The Unseen had just released of Rejects Wanted, more somber and haunting the original rage the song had captured. Far more fitting for today.

Virgil, Trevor, and Brittney also were singing, their voices lilting up into the skies with everyone else; Patton and Roman joined them.

_“ – rejects wanted_

_Those of you with stories most haunted_

_Let us all be undaunted_

_And take our power back from the flaunted_

_Their sticks and stones may have broken our bones_

_And too many of us have our own gravestones_

_Time has come to destroy their thrones_

_Blood they spilled the warpaint on our cheekbones.”_

The song ended and started over again, people singing louder in an attempt to drown out the screaming hate.

But it also drowned out the squealing of tires.

OoOoO

Logan ignored the fact over half of his classmates were absent at the protest downtown. He knew Roman, Virgil, and Patton were there. He had seen Professor Higgins purse his lips angrily when he entered the room and saw the mostly-empty classroom before slamming his briefcase onto the desk and opening it.

The lecture started and continued for a little over two-thirds of its usual run-time before someone in another classroom – or maybe it was the hallway – screamed. And not the ‘I’m startled’ scream, or excited scream.

It was a genuine, full-on horrified scream.

Mouth still open with a half-formed word Professor Higgins looked at the closed door in puzzlement; some of the students shared looks or whispers.

“Oh, gods!”

“Holy fuck!”

“Oh my god no!”

Now completely frowning Professor Higgins walked over to the door but it was ripped open before he reached it. A student Logan did not recognize was there, tears streaking down her face.

“Three people drove SUVs into the rally downtown! They’re already saying two people are dead and several more are hurt. If you know anyone who was going, call them!”

Everyone in the class, it seemed, knew someone who had gone as they all dived for their phones; even Professor Higgins did. Logan yanked his from his bag and tried to call Roman.

It went straight to voicemail.

He tried again.

Same result.

Panic started to creep up his spine.

_You should have gone! What if Roman’s hurt? Patton? …Virgil?_

_What if one of them is dead?!_

A few others were having trouble reaching friends and family and were starting to panic.

“Hey, hey!” Professor Higgins got everyone’s attention. “It appears some of you are having trouble getting in touch with people at the rally. That could be because so many people are calling in and out that it’s causing the cell towers to drop calls or crash; it happens. How many of you have a car here?”

Eleven students raised their hands.

“Alright. Students who have cars and are willing to drive others downtown please come down here and hold up how many seats you can spare. Anyone who needs to get down there, make a line behind each person with a car. We will get down there as close as we can.”

All eleven people were already making their way down to the front, holding up their fingers to show how many seats they had. By some good luck, between the students and Professor Higgins, they had enough seats.

As they headed downstairs it seemed not many people had thought to get down there – which as it turned out was a good thing Logan thought as he piled into a car, still trying to get through to Roman and failing, all the while cursing the fact that he didn’t have Patton or Virgil’s numbers yet.

One of the other students managed to see a facebook clip someone had been livestreaming of the people at the rally as singing turned to screaming as a car plowed through three lines of protesters in a wide arc and back out and tried to take off.

Another showed the aftermath, people using hats and scarves to staunch other’s bleeding; some women were holding pads and tampons against wounds. First responders were carrying the more severely injured away on stretchers or wheeling them away on gurneys. A coat was draped over a body, blood soaking into the snow around it.

People were sitting with arms around each other.

Not once in any of the videos did Logan see Roman, Patton, or Virgil.

They ended up having to park over a mile from the capital building when the traffic came to a dead stop, doing a U-turn back a block and parking in a group.

“I know you all want to rush in,” Professor Higgins said as they started walking. “but keep your wits; for all anyone knows there could be another… incident, now that there are first responders and more people arriving like us to check on their friends and family. And stay out of the way of the police and EMTs!”

A murmur of acquiescing rose from some of the students; others – like Logan – were once again trying and failing to reach their loved ones on their phones.

Throngs of people clogged the streets; some were panicked while others were ‘rubber-neckers’, keen only on seeing the depths of the violence that had occurred. Some were local employees wheeling boxes of bottled water down the street or large kegs of hot chocolate and boxes of baked goods.

Finally, _finally,_ they reached the far end of the street across from the capital building. Madison Police, as well as police from neighboring towns, were manning the perimeter, talking to witnesses, keeping two clashing groups of protestors from going after each other’s throats; some were taken away in handcuffs.

People were gathered in groups, talking softly with each other. Some were helping the less wounded until an EMT could get to them, holding scarves or hats or pads or tampons to wounds; some had given up their coats to cushion someone’s head, or to wrap around someone. They stood or sat with their arms around each other; some were trying to make calls. Logan heard more than one person tell the person on the other end of the call to please call so-and-so at whatever number for the person sitting with them because their phone was smashed and to let them know they were ok.

“Molly!” one of Logan’s classmates shouted, waving his arms wildly at his sister inside the barrier as he stepped to cross the street. “That’s my sister!” he told the officer who stopped him.

The officer turned to see his sister, crying and limping as she tried to walk over, and waved him through.

Other students and Professor Higgins peeled off the group as they slowly worked their way around the square as they located friends and family. Panic was starting to claw its way up Logan’s throat when on the last side of the block he finally located Virgil and Joan sitting in the snow. Virgil’s lip was split, swollen and bleeding as Joan dabbed one-handedly at it with a soiled cloth; his other hand was clasped tightly around Virgil’s. A large bruise was blossoming on his cheek and jaw.

“That’s my cousin’s Mate’s brother,” Logan said to the officer who stopped him from crossing the barrier.

The officer – whose last name was Raines – gave Logan a very skeptical look.

“Look, go over and ask him!” he pointed at Virgil. “I don’t see my cousin! Please!”

The officer finally looked over where Logan was pointing. “You know Virgil?” he asked, the skepticism leaving his face.

Logan filed the curiosity that the officer knew who Virgil was to be pondered later. “Yes! His brother Patton is my cousin’s Soulmate.”

Officer Raines waved him past the barrier. “I know they were near where one of the cars went through,” he said. “but I don’t know more than that.”

Logan ran over to Virgil and Joan, dropping to his knees in front of them. “Where’s Roman? Where’s Patton?” he panted. “What happened? Where is he?!”

Virgil’s face was tear-streaked, some of the finer ones frozen part-way in their journey of smearing his black eyeliner. Others had dripped off his face or met up with the blood on his face. His eyes were shut, his knees drawn up to his heaving chest.

He didn’t acknowledge Logan’s arrival, though if looks could kill the one Joan sent at him very well could have.

“Virgil!” Logan shouted, voice rising an octave in panic, ignoring Joan. “Where’s my cousin?!”

Virgil flinched, his breathing becoming sharper as his body curled even tighter.

Joan made a strangled noise to get Logan’s attention. They set the bloody cloth on their knee and started signing before halting and huffing. They made a sharp motion in front of their throat, the ‘universal’ sign for cut it out. They then got onto their knees and pulled a piece of paper and a tiny pen from their pocket. Bracing the paper awkwardly on their knee they wrote

**_R @ ER. Out, stable. Pushed V, P away from car._ **

The sigh – Logan refused to admit it was a cry – of relief Logan let out startled him. “Thank gods,” he said. “which hospital?”

**_Lady Diana_ **

Joan pointed the direction it was in.

“Did they catch them? The drivers?”

Joan held up two fingers.

Only two of them.

“Is Patton ok?”

A nod. Yes.

“Did he go with Roman?”

Another nod.

“What happened to Virgil?” he asked, ignoring the worry that completely didn’t color his voice.

Joan shook their head, jaw muscle ticking in anger. Logan had been about to ask if one of the counter-protesters had hit him when an EMT whose features were both masculine and feminine tried to come over to them, their crunching footsteps in the snow, making Virgil flinch and Joan to actually growl, shaking their head and glaring daggers at the person. Logan expected the EMT to either ignore them and approach to check on Virgil or to leave but instead, they knelt down and signed something.

Joan shook their head in response to their question and started signing something back with their free hand, their hand moving more sharply than what Logan was used to seeing them sign – not that he had a lot of experience watching Joan sign but the little he had seen had been smooth and fluid – making Logan wonder why they were so angry.

The EMT nodded and dug out some packaged sterile gauze pads and a water bottle and handed them to Joan before leaving them after signing something else, to which Joan nodded. Joan used their teeth to tear open one of the gauze pads and tried to one-handedly open the bottle of water before Logan picked it up and opened it, dumping a little onto the gauze Joan was holding. Joan nodded their thanks and gently set to cleaning the drying blood.

“I need to go check on Roman,” Logan said after a moment. “will you guys be ok?”

Stupid question, Logan knew, but he had to go see his cousin.

Joan nodded and flapped their hand for Logan to go.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He only took a wrong turn once in his hurried walk over to the overflowing Emergency Room. Staff with tablets were talking to people as they came in looking for injured friends and family, directing them to where they could wait. People who seemed to be strangers were talking to each other, taking comfort in shared worry as others attempted to make phone calls as volunteers passed out coffee, hot chocolate, and water as well as sandwiches.

“Who are you looking for?” a blonde woman asked him as he approached.

“My cousin, Roman Prince-Fowl,” Logan told her.

After tapping something out on her tablet she said, “Fourth floor, room 412. His Mate is there with him. Here,” she dug a ‘Hello, my name is___’ nametag out of her scrub pocket, wrote the room number he was headed to and then squiggled something in the bottom corner that had to be her initials. “wear this. We’ve already had a few of those fucking Purify America bastards try to sneak in. You’ll probably be stopped a few times, just tell them Candy sent you.”

She smiled briefly before turning her attention to two teenager boys looking frantically for their uncle.

Logan took the stairs next to the elevators, which had a waiting line of people who seemed to just have bumps and bruises from the rally trying to get up to see friends and family more injured than they; he didn’t mind taking the stairs. He needed to work off some of his excess nervous energy. He was stopped on each new floor level by county sheriff officers guarding the doors but they waved him on once they inspected the nametag.

Room 412 was easy enough to find, and the door was open. Roman was unconscious on the bed, his head wrapped in gauze; blood was slightly visible. It looked like his chest was also wrapped. A nasal cannula and an IV were also in place as monitors tracked his vitals.

Patton was holding Roman’s free hand as he perched on the edge of the hospital chair as close to the bed as he could get, eyes fixed on his Mate’s face, his own tear-streaked.

“Patton?” Logan said. “How is he?”

Rage flashed in Patton’s eyes – something Logan never thought he would see, given what he had seen of the young man in the past few months – until it vanished after he realized who was speaking.

“They’re keeping him unconscious, for now,” he said, voice rough. “He has a concussion, broken collarbone, three broken ribs, and a broken wrist.” He sniffed. “They said he’ll be fine, but…” he trailed off for a moment. “What if they’re wrong? What if he, he has an aneurysm or the concussion is worse than they thought?! I – I just found him…”

Logan winced mentally. _Feelings…_ This was why he avoided friendships, and anything stronger (other than Roman) and he refused to think of Patton, Joan, and the others as friends. And Virgil was best not thought about.

“This is a wonderful hospital,” Logan said, trying his best to be reassuring. “If we need to have him transferred for specialty care, you know we will.”

Patton nodded, sniffing. “I wish my mom and dad were here,” he said. “They’d be able to look at the tests and know.”

Logan knew – well he hoped (who knew if anyone here on the medical staff were part of Purify America) – that the staff would have been honest with Patton, since he was Roman’s Mate. “They’re still in Arizona getting another Healing Hands started, correct? Perhaps once everything calms down they can call the staff here and ask to have the records and test results sent to them.”

“That’s a great idea, thanks, Logan,” Patton said. “I’ll talk to them later.” He reached out and cupped Roman’s unblemished cheek. “Don’t you dare think about leaving me,” he whispered.

Logan had been about to turn away and call Roman’s family and let them know how he was when he saw Patton’s hand.

The knuckles on the hand were bruised and still a little bloody. Surely he had been able to wash any of Roman’s blood off of him before now. But that still left the bruised knuckles.

No. Just… no.

Patton wouldn’t have… would he?

Logan’s gut churned as he watched Patton gaze at Roman.

 _Yes_ , the analytical part of his brain said. _Yes, in the heat of the moment, in fear and helpless rage, he would have._

OoOoO

Virgil woke up in near-darkness, a light in the hallway barely throwing the room – and one of the two people in the bed with him – into shadowed relief. Talyn’s purple and green hair was rather unmistakable, and judging by the vanilla scent the person holding him was Joan.

Virgil closed his eyes as the pain and panic tried to eat his brain and devour him once and for all.

_Maybe I should let it…_

_Maybe I should have let it a long time ago._

It _was_ all his fault, anyway. Perhaps then Roman wouldn’t be in the hospital. Perhaps then Trevor wouldn’t have been hurt. Perhaps then…

It was all his fault.

OoOoO

It was the sixth time through singing ‘Rejects Wanted’ when Virgil heard a voice he never had thought he would hear again, screaming profanity over the song.

“Drown them all! Beat them fucking bloody and hang the shits! They don’t deserve to live let alone rights like us! They’re worthless pieces of shit! Useless wastes of space taking up room and eating food from the rest of our plates! Purify our blood of the Soulless stain!”

_Worthless._

_Useless._

_Soulless._

_Whore._

_Trash._

_Disgusting._

_Boy._

_Die._

Ma’am.

Patton and the stranger on Virgil’s other side caught him when his knees gave out, eyes wide in fear.

“V? V what’s wrong?!” Patton asked fearfully, crouching down in front of Virgil.

It took a moment before Virgil could move, taking his free hand from the stranger and with his open hand perpendicular to his face touched his thumb to his chin for ‘mother’ and then fisted it without moving; the sign he used for… _her._

“What?!” Patton looked around. “She’s… she’s here? You’re sure?!”

“What did he say?” Roman asked as Trevor and Brittney knelt down. “I know he said mom but what was the other one?”

Hand shaking, Virgil pointed subtly in the direction he had heard her voice to their right.

Patton looked. Then he swore and ducked his head down. “It’s his birth mother,” he snarled. “The one in the white hat and pea-soup coat.”

Roman’s head whipped around, eyes searching. “I see her,” he said, voice hard. “do we need to leave?”

Jaw clenched, Virgil shook his head wordlessly.

He wouldn’t let her win. Not this time.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

But he couldn’t move.

Then…

Squealing tires.

Time slowed.

“Move!” Roman roared shoving Patton towards the snow-covered ‘yard’ of the capital a foot above the sidewalk. “Cars! Everyone move! Get up on the stairs! Move, move, _move!_ ”

Trevor yanked Brittney and shoved her towards the wall but before he could follow her someone crashed into him and he fell, hitting his head on the icy edge of the retaining wall; Brittney and Joan pulled him up.

Screams of panic and fear and pain.

Virgil couldn’t move.

Someone seized his waist and dragged him to his feet and literally threw him towards where Patton was.

 _Crash_.

Roman’s body flew through the air, propelled by a green SUV as it tore down the sidewalk, hitting more people before it squealed off.

More screams.

Police were shouting.

Guns were firing.

People were running, crying, shouting, yelling, screaming.

“ _ROMAN!”_

Patton tore by Virgil and dropped to his knees at Roman’s side. “Roman, no, no, no,” he sobbed. “Roman!”

Virgil forced his body to move as he and Joan tore after him as Brittney held her scarf to Trevor’s bleeding head as he sat next to her, wincing as she applied pressure.

Roman was unconscious, blood staining the snow red.

A police officer ran over to them; Virgil and Joan got up to give him room as he talked into his radio, relaying Roman’s condition and their location.

Perhaps the ambulance had been that close. Perhaps they had been expecting something bad to happen. It seemed to be only a few minutes before two EMTs were there and helping Roman.

Virgil didn’t care if the police had been expecting something – to be honest, a lot of them had expected something at some of the rallies. They had warned all attendees they could to be safe and vigilant.

He was just grateful Roman was getting help.

_Your fault your fault your fault your fault it’s all your fault it’s ALL YOUR FAULT!_

The EMTs had Roman on a wheeling gurney, and Patton made to follow.

“We – we’ll meet you there, Pat,” Virgil started to say when Patton exploded.

“ _THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”_ He roared, whirling on Virgil and slamming his fist into the side of Virgil’s face over and over again. _“HE ONLY CAME BECAUSE OF YOU!! BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR STUPID GROUP AND YOU BEING SOULLESS! YOU COULDN’T EVEN GET OVER YOURSELF AND MOVE!! HE’S HURT AND MAYBE DYING BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU STUPID SOULLESS PIECE OF SHIT!! I HATE YOU!! I FUCKING HATE YOU!! I WISH WE HAD NEVER TAKEN YOU IN! I WISH –”_

Virgil tried to curl into himself as the blows landed and the words stabbed him, hurting, twisting, biting, killing far worse than the fists.

And then Joan was there, throwing themself between them and shoving Patton away.

Patton must have left because the next thing Virgil felt was Joan wrapping their arms around him as he cried.

_I want to die_

_I want to die_

_I want to die…_

_I_ will _die._

OoOoO

In the end, four people died from the violence at the Madison, Wisconsin rally.

Twenty-three other rallies in the United States were driven through; over forty total worldwide.

Five in the US were shot up; ten more South America.

One was bombed; two more in Italy and Brazil.

Ninety-six dead.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Patton might have seemed OOC at the end but keep in mind he JUST met his Soulmate a few months ago and then saw then get hit by a car. He is a very emotional character, and I felt it was right.
> 
> Oh, and um... buckle up. It's gonna get worse.
> 
> * Real name, Nigel Shelby. He was actually 15 and committed suicide in Alabama because of homophobic bullying at school.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: panic attacks, suicidal thoughts/idealization, hospitals/illness/injury, thoughts of self-harm

 

It was daylight the next time Virgil woke up. If it hadn’t been for the very vivid nightmares of yesterday’s events playing on repeat he would have thought he had a migraine… but he knew that was not the case. Patton...

Patton had hit him. Repeatedly. And he’d been screaming at him…

~~You deserved it.~~

_Did… did Patton really think that? Did he really think he was Soulless?_

_Did Patton really hate him?_

~~Of course he does; why are you so surprised? He probably has hated you for a long time.~~

Joan and Talyn were both upright in bed, studying (well, Talyn was making flashcards and Joan was trying to work out their algebra homework, their free hand resting gently on Virgil’s shoulder).

“Hey, hon,” Talyn said softly, putting the sharpee down. “can we get you anything?”

Virgil pushed himself upright. “Have…” even he could barely understand himself. Joan handed him a colorful bottle of water. Once it didn’t feel like he had downed a handful of sand and broken glass Virgil tried again. “Have… have either of you heard how Roman is?”

“I called one of mom’s friends, who’s an administrative doctor over at Lady Diana.” Talyn said. “She was checking on what his records said and found some discrepancies. The doctor who had been in charge of Roman’s care had swapped head x-rays with someone else and had been hiding that Roman had major bleeding in his skull.” Seeing the panic in Virgil’s eyes they hastened to continue, “She got him into emergency surgery to drain the blood and relieve the pressure. He’s doing great now and should be awake sometime today or tomorrow. They’ll keep him for a week or so, between that and the broken collarbone they don’t want him moving a whole heck of a lot. But he’ll be fine, V.” they reached over to grasp his hand, their face pinching slightly at the painful movement but ignoring it. “He’ll be ok, Virgil.”

“Good,” Virgil whispered, eyes on his knees. “that’s good.”

Joan shifted on Virgil’s other side and got his attention. Pointing at themself and Talyn they started signing. **We talk. We want you stay here. We have spare room. Will you? Please?**

Part of Virgil’s nightmares had been Patton kicking him out of their apartment. At least now…

~~You deserve to live on the streets.~~

~~Or the morgue.~~

~~Or the woods.~~

~~Or the lake. Not really picky.~~

“I can’t… I can’t intrude on you guys,” Virgil said, free arm wrapping around his stomach, his back curled. “I don’t want…” he tried to search for the right word but his brain refused to obey. “I don’t want… to be a problem.”

~~You’ve been a problem since you were born; why would that have changed?~~

Joan growled. **No problem. Stupid, yes, for think we no want you. We love you, V. We want you here. With us.** They shared a look with Talyn.

“Tell him,” they said, squeezing the hand of Virgil’s they still held.

**We want you stay. Permanent, maybe. You find love, good. Not, stay. Forever. Ours.**

Virgil blinked. “But…” he swallowed again, eyes on his knees. “I don’t want to drag the two of you down.”

~~Drag them down with you? You’re already doing that. Sullying them, tainting them.~~

Joan cupped Virgil’s face, touch gentle as their finger traced the dark bruise. **You never drag us down. We love you, V.**

~~Patton loved you, too. Look where that took you.~~

Joan’s touch, Talyn’s grasp… they both felt so safe.

~~Patton’s touch used to be safe.~~

“Can I… think about it? The whole… staying forever thing? Even if…” he _hated_ to ask. “can I stay for now? Until… I can think?” Then another thought occurred to him. “But… if my presence is going to hurt your friendship with P-Patton…”

“What friendship?” Talyn’s tone was so frigid Virgil had to look back and make sure it had been them who had spoken and not a third person in the room. “He lost our friendships the moment he attacked you. He’s also lost Trevor and Brittney.”

The pain in Virgil’s chest grew.

~~All your fault all your fault all your fault, you’ve ruined their friendships with Patton~~ –

Joan cleared their throat to get Virgil’s attention. **Our choice. Trevor, Brittney, their choice. We love you. Patton wrong, cruel. We no friend mean people. Ever.**

~~If you weren’t in the picture their friendship would be intact.~~

Virgil could feel tears in the corners of his eyes. “What did I ever do to deserve friends like you two?”

~~Nothing. Because you don’t deserve them. You are scum on the bottom of someone’s shoe compared to their trash; how could you ever hope to actually compare to _them?_~~

Joan’s reply was to embrace him.

“Well, I’m glad you decided to stay,” Talyn said. “Brittney, her sister, and her Mate and his brother _may_ have borrowed your key last night and retrieved all of your belongings from your apartment and moved them here, so…”

Virgil turned to look at them, mouth open in shock. “Really?”

_I don’t need to go back there and risk running into… him?_

~~Maybe you should. Maybe then he’d beat you to death.~~

Talyn nodded, smiling. “All of it.”

OoOoO

After downing a couple of aspirin Virgil took a long, hot shower. He had not expected the offer Joan and Talyn had given. A room for a while was one thing, but to say he could live with them for an indefinite amount of time…

Honestly, he didn’t dare hope it – being the offer or himself – would last that long.

What would he do if he ran into Patton? Or... gods… ~~their~~ his parents?

~~They were never _your_ parents, just as Patton was never your brother! It was too good to last, and you know that! You’re not worthy of love from anyone!~~

_Worthless_

_Useless_

_Soulless_

_Disgusting_

_Ugly_

_Hopeless_

_Thing_

Perhaps it would have been better if he had died all those years ago when Ma’am and Sir left him at that hospital in Nebraska…

~~Finish what they started, then. ‘I will die’ remember? You promised…~~

The pain was crushing him, breaking, searing, stifling, burning, freezing, drowning _pain_.

Virgil was barely able to catch himself on the edge of the tub and prevent his head from hitting it as his knees gave out.

“Virgil?!”

Joan didn’t bother knocking as they barged in, turning the water off and draped a huge, fluffy towel around Virgil’s shaking form and embraced him, cheek against his wet hair as they gently rubbed their hand up and down his arm. They were humming softly ‘Rejects Wanted’ as they crouched there with Virgil.

Panic continued to swamp Virgil’s senses. Panic, fear, shame, pain, nothingness… It all churned itself into a frenzy in his chest, reaching its burning, icy grip out onto his limbs.

_This is where he’d usually find a blade and…_

~~Cut until you can’t feel anything? Or cut until you’re gone?~~

Over the roaring in his ears, Virgil heard Talyn call out, “Joan, how is he?”

Joan knocked three times against the tub.

In the other room, Talyn was swearing the air blue. “Gods-fucked bloody-cursed body! Son of a fucking bitch – ”

~~They’re upset, and it’s _your_ fault! Get up, you shit!~~

Virgil tried, he really, really did try. But his body wouldn’t obey him and he fell heavily against Joan. Joan – who must have been working out – looped Virgil’s closer arm around their neck and slid one arm around Virgil’s shoulders and the other under his knees and lifted him out of the tub. They carried him back to the bed where Talyn was waiting worriedly.

At some point Virgil’s other hand had rooted itself in his hair; Talyn patiently worked his fingers loose as Joan made sure he was as covered as possible before holding him again.

“Hush, hon. We’re right here.” Talyn levered themself closer and leaned their head down on Virgil’s shoulder as they and Joan sandwiched Virgil between them. “We love you.”

OoOoO

Logan watched Patton sleep, curled up against the wall as they waited for Roman to return from emergency surgery. Before they could even have Patton’s parents look over Roman’s medical records someone had caught something – he was still trying to find out who – and they had realized how bad Roman’s condition really was and rushed him off to surgery. Patton had lost the battle to stay conscious and passed out after three hours. Logan was starting to feel exhaustion creeping up on him – despite many cups of crappy, instant, machine-made coffee – and started reading news articles online about the attacks. The fact so many of the rallies had been targets was… frightening. Less than half of the attackers had been arrested, and the death count had climbed to ninety-eight after a seventy-eight year old man there with his Poly-granddaughter and her Mates (one a Soulless her and her Mate were now in a poly-relationship with) died on the operating table after shielding a stranger’s nine-year-old gender-fluid child from bullets of a Cleansing One’s gun at the rally in Austin, Texas.

Half the world mourned.

A few were silent.

The rest celebrated, lamented that the death toll wasn’t higher.

On the table, Patton’s phone buzzed; he didn’t wake up.

Logan would have left it alone if the screen hadn’t said ‘Dad’.

“Patton’s phone,” Logan said, stepping out into the hall so he wouldn’t wake Patton.

“Who is this? Are my sons alright?!”

“This is Logan, I’m Roman’s cousin, Dr. Sanderson. Patton is fine, he’s in the hospital with me; he fell asleep about two hours ago. Roman was hurt. I know Virgil was a little banged up, but not to the point he needed to be hospitalized.”

The man on the other end sighed with relief. “Thank gods,” he said. “We’ve been working the graveyard shift and didn’t see the news until an hour ago. When they showed the clips from Madison… gods…”

“Would you like me to wake Patton up?” Logan offered.

“Hmm? No. Let him rest. I’m sure he’s exhausted. Is Roman ok?”

Logan repeated what they had originally been told, and their plan to have him and his wife look everything over but before they could the ‘error’ had been caught and Roman had been rushed into surgery. “He was injured getting Patton, Virgil, and others to safety.”

“He sounds like an amazing young man, and I can’t wait to meet him,” Daniel said. “and it’s a good thing they found the records had been tampered with. If it hadn’t been caught until now it would have been much harder and more dangerous to correct.” He sighed. “Thank you, Logan, for talking to me. Please, have my sons call me, will you? I can’t seem to get through to Virgil, and it took a couple tries to get through to Patton.”

Unsure of what to say – or if he should even voice his worry that it had been Patton who had caused Virgil’s injuries – he settled for “I will let them know, sir.”

In a moment of sleep-deprived brilliance – it should not have taken him this long, seriously – he thumbed through Patton’s contact list and added Joan, Talyn, and Virgil to his own contacts.

[2:32AM] Hey, this is Logan. Your dad called Patton’s phone and asked that both of you call him. He saw the news and is worried. Told him you were both ok, but he still wants to talk to you both.

He hit send.

[Error] message undeliverable.

Logan’s eyebrows creased. Even if Virgil’s phone was turned off, the message should still have gone through, and the towers had been back up for at least three hours…

Perhaps they were down again. Martin had said it had taken a few tries to get through to Patton and he hadn’t been able to get through at all to Virgil.

The arrival of a sleeping Roman both stopped Logan’s current train of thought and woke Patton up.

“How is he?” Patton hurriedly got out of his chair. “Were you able to let out the pressure and stop the bleeding?”

The doctor smiled. “Yes, we were successful on both accounts, Mr. Sanderson and Mr.?” he looked at Logan.

“Logan Prince-Fowl.”

Hearing the last name ‘Fowl’ made the man almost flinch before he continued, “We had to drill a small hole in his skull to both relieve the pressure and drain the blood. Thankfully, it was caught in time that little to no damage was done.” His eyes flickered over to Logan, and for a moment something akin to fear flashed through them. “I can’t put into words how sorry I and the hospital are that his records were tampered with and that his health and life were put in jeopardy. Please rest assured that particular doctor has been fired and arrested, and this is all being done free of charge, and any rehabilitation Mr. Prince-Fowl may need, as well.”

Logan frowned. “We will pay our bill in full; take the money you would have wasted paying ours and put it to help people with their bills who were hurt today who have financial stain.”

“I agree,” Patton added, eyes fixed on Roman’s face. “Help them.”

The doctor bobbed his head. “I will see to it,” he promised. “I have a few other patients to check on, but I will be back in an hour to check on him again. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to let one of the on-duty nurses know.”

Patton was loathe to give up his grip on Roman’s hand as the nurse attached the monitors but he did step back, if only a little.

“Your father called,” Logan said as a distraction. “You were sleeping. He saw the news and was quite worried about you and Virgil. I told him you were unharmed but here with Roman, and that Virgil was unharmed as far as I knew.” Logan eyes Patton carefully as he spoke, and there it was, the flash of rage.

“Does he know about Roman?” he demanded. “Does he know he almost died, and why? Whose fault it is?”

Not quite sure what to make of the last question, Logan said, “He knows the records were tampered with and said it was a good thing the switch was caught when it was.”

“Or he could have died!” Patton spat. “All because of – ” he caught himself from saying what Logan suspected was ‘Virgil’. “Roman almost _died_ , and you’re cool as a – a – a cucumber!”

Logan shrugged. “It’s how I am,” he said. “Ask Roman when he wakes up.”

When the nurse made to leave, Logan followed her out. “Ma’am? Do you know how the subterfuge of the first doctor was caught?”

She nodded. “The child of a friend of one of the administrator doctors got a call – Doctor Salazar’s child, I believe – asking about Roman’s condition, as a friend, but why they didn’t call him or his Mate saw unsaid. When she pulled the records up she noticed the timestamp from the brain scan and x-ray did not match the medical records, so she ordered the tests redone.”

Salazar… as in Talyn, Joan’s Mate and both friends with Patton and Virgil.

“Thank you,” he said.

She nodded. “Of course.”

Logan returned to the room. Patton was sitting as close to the hospital bed as he could, one arm folded so his head could rest on it and the other holding Roman’s hand. For some reason, he did feel the need to relay what he had found out to Patton. Instead, he returned to his seat and took out his phone, pulling up Talyn’s newly added contact.

[3:11AM] Sorry if I wake you, this is Logan. Thank you for what you did, calling about Roman and calling attention to the fact his condition was far worse due to a doctor altering the records. You saved my cousin’s life: I and the Prince-Fowl Family are in your debt.

The next morning, there was a reply.

**[7:25AM] Save it.**

OoOoO

Joan insisted on helping Virgil back into the shower and forced him to sit on the bathing chair Talyn used, ordering him in no uncertain terms was he to attempt to stand without help. They placed new towels on the sink and gave him a washcloth.

Virgil lost track of how long he sat there under the hot spray, mind swirling and spinning.

_Should I… accept their offer?_

~~And burden them with their presence? How long do you think it’ll take them to regret their decision? One month? Three?  A year if you’re lucky?~~

_How quickly had it taken Patton? His parents?_

~~No one wants you, not truly. They all regret meeting you sooner rather than later. Why burden them?~~

_I never wanted to be a burden to anyone. Patton, mom and d – his parents… even Ma’am and Sir… I don’t want to become yet someone else’s burden…_

~~Then you know what you have to do, don’t you?~~

_But how…_

~~What, you never thought about it before? Didn’t ever have plans? Never ‘practiced’?~~

True. He had. Several times. He had even written – and subsequently burned – letters to Patton, their parents, and even his Soulmate.

_But if even temporarily they do care… wouldn’t doing… that… hurt them, too?_

~~You have options. Piss them off, too, or write them letters explaining how this was the best option. Or both. Or neither. You’ll be dead, what do you care?~~

_I don’t want to hurt anyone else, that’s why._ Virgil started to slowly scrub himself clean, the pain of his purpled ribs from being thrown out of the way of the car by Roman still paling in comparison to his head.

And his heart?

~~What heart? You were rejected by your Soulmate. Things not worthy of love don’t have hearts.~~

While that could be true… his chest still ached. Worse than after the attack in high school, something he had never thought was possible.

~~You should have taken yourself out of the picture back then.~~

_I know._

It was washing his arms when he finally noticed the little ‘X’ on his wrist in sharpee; he would have to ask Talyn about it when he got out.

Joan appeared as if by magic the moment Virgil turned the water, eyes averted as they waited for Virgil to wrap a towel around his body. **Brought clean clothes,** they signed, pointing to the boxers, sweat pants, and t-shirt on the sink next to the towels. **Need help?**

“I – I don’t know,” Virgil said, face flushing in a mixture of embarrassment and shame. “let me at least try.”

Virgil was able to get shakily to his feet but ended up needing Joan’s help to get out of the bathtub – more like he tried on his own and his legs gave out and he fell into his friend’s arms. Joan helped him get to the counter and lean on it for support. By the time Virgil was clothed the non-bruised portions of his face were crimson with embarrassment.

It didn’t help that the t-shirt left his scarred arms plainly visible, healed and new, lines and Soulless words. Not that his friends hadn’t seen them before, but it was still embarrassing.

~~Won’t have to worry about embarrassment after you’re dead.~~

Joan linked their arm with Virgil and walked out to the living room where Talyn was fidgeting on the sofa as they waited for them. “Hey, V,” they said. “Feel any better?”

Virgil shrugged. “A little, I guess.” He paused. “Was there a reason you drew an X on my wrist?” he showed them the mostly-scrubbed away but still visible mark.

“That… wasn’t me,” Talyn replied, sharing another look with Joan. “Joan said it was there since the rally and the attack.”

“… I didn’t do it,” Virgil looked from one friend to the other. “So, what, that stranger standing on my other side marked me for some reason?”

**Perhaps mark you for target,** Joan signed. **Knows who you are, history. Want track you, hurt you.**

Virgil sat down with a sigh. “Great, just… great.”

The tension was still thick in the room, Virgil could almost feel it.

There was something else.

“What is it?”

Joan was chewing on their lip. **I… I see someone, same mark.**

Virgil was now completely confused. “So… what, they marked more than one person?”

**Maybe. Or…** they ran their hand through their hair. **Maybe… your Mate. Was same wrist.**

Virgil scoffed. “My Mate _rejected_ me; why would they be at a rally?”

**Was after.**

_Just my luck._ “So… what? They’re part of the Purify movement? One of the first responders? What?”

Joan licked their lips nervously. **We do research while you sleep, think his story lies.**

“He? Who’s he?”

Joan couldn’t seem to bring themself to reply, so Virgil turned his attention to Talyn. “Is it someone we know?” he asked.

Talyn sighed. “The person Joan saw with a matching mark… it was Logan, V.”

Virgil blinked once, twice, three times. “You’re shitting me,” he finally said after huffing humorlessly. “Of all the odds… P-Patton and I having related Soulmates… But he was rejected by his Mate, too; maybe whoever marked me also managed to mark him.” Then all of their words caught up with Virgil. “Why do you think he’s lying?”

Talyn’s fingers twisted in on each other. “When Joan told me what they’d seen… I did some research. Turns out his mom died of cancer when he was little, and in his grief, his father committed suicide. I mean, it’s all circumstantial at best, but there have been previous cases of children witnessing such events and not wanting anything to do with love or their Mate.”

**How we find truth?** Joan wanted to know. **Ask?**

Virgil shook his head violently. “No, no, please, no.” he shuddered. That was the last thing he needed.

~~It would piss Patton off more. And Roman and Logan.~~

_But if we’re wrong… I don’t want to leave a mess behind…_

~~More than you already will be, you mean.~~

Thinking about Roman and Patton reminded Virgil how the two had met. “Roman and Patton met because I got highlighter on Patton’s cheek and it showed up on Roman’s but he didn’t feel it.”

Talyn and Joan understood what he was saying at the same moment.

“So you can only feel it when it’s your Soulmate writing or drawing or whatever,” Talyn breathed. “How is that not public knowledge?”

**We mark you, he no feel but we see!** Joan signed almost excitedly. **Need be sneaky.**

Talyn nodded in agreement. “I agree, it’s best if we don’t let him know what we’re up to, but how? Where can we mark you that he won’t notice?”

Virgil thought for a moment before it came to him. “Back of my neck, under my hair,” he said quietly, lifting the drying hair. “His hair is much shorter than mine. We’ll be able to see it on him but he won’t see it on him.”

_I… I need to know. Before… before._

“If it is him, I’m gonna smash his face in!” Talyn snarled.

**Same!**

“No, guys, please…” Virgil was shaking. Between the events of the day prior, this news – real or not – it was just too much. “There’s been enough fighting because of… me.”

~~True or not, way to sound like a self-centered little bitch.~~

_I just don’t want any more problems because of me…_

“If.. if it’s… him… let me be… let me the one… to say something to him.” He folded himself in on himself, body shaking; a sob tore itself from his throat.

Joan and Talyn wrapped their arms around him.

“Ok, Virgil.”

**Ok, V.**

“Why… _why?!_ ” It felt like his chest was being shredded, his mind being torn apart.

_Whether or not I even do… I don’t know what to do…_

~~Not like it’ll matter. You’ll be dead soon anyway.~~

OoOoO

Logan finally went home mid-morning to shower, nap, and eat; someone from the Salazar household named Thomas had brought Patton a change of clothes and his shower things. Thankfully the cabbie giving him a ride back home to his apartment wasn’t very chatty; Logan never was really in the chatty mood but after the past twenty-four hours’ worth of events he _really_ didn’t want to chat with anyone.

Logan’s feet were on autopilot as he entered the apartment, locked the door, dropped his keys into the bowl on the table, and headed into his room to fetch a change of clothes. Stepping under the warm spray was… bliss.

Roman’s family was furious, and Logan wouldn’t bet money that the doctor would survive much longer. Not that he really blamed them, or even disagreed with them. They might be criminals but they took care of their own and their families, even the Commons employed as servants. But if someone hurt their family member…

Well, the teenagers who attacked Virgil a couple of years ago were a good example, weren’t they?

They did their best to stay in the shadows and remain hidden (though some governments knew of their existence and either did their best to avoid them or to put them all in jail) but in some instances, they were left with no choice.

Perhaps they should tackle some of the more vocal and influential members of Purify America and the Cleansing Ones.

Logan was so wrapped up in his thoughts as he scrubbed himself clean he didn’t see the black X, faded though it was, on his wrist.

Much to the surprise of Logan – and the doctors – by Sunday evening Roman was awake, high though he was on pain medications.

“Heyy, Spock!” he called when Logan came back. “My blogical, trilliant, smarmy-pants cousin!”

Logan paused and blinked. “I believe you mean ‘logical’, ‘brilliant’ and ‘smarty-pants’, cousin.”

Roman tried to nod energetically before wincing. “That’s what I said,” he complained. “Patty-cakes he’s making my head hurt!”

Patton giggled. “You’re the one who moved!”

“Nuhuh,” Roman contradicted, wiggling a finger to get Patton to come closer. “He _always_ makes my head hurt with his smarmy – I mean smarty… smarts.” He stage-whispered. “Jus’ you waits, Patty-cakes. You see.”

“How are you feeling, Roman?” Logan asked, setting his bag down on the open chair.

“Fantastic! Let’s go!” Roman shouted and pointed at the window.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose in mock exasperation. “Roman… that’s the window.”

“I know.”

“You’re not Peter Pan.”

Roman looked heartbroken. “You mean… I can’t fly?”

“Not literally. Isn’t that why you ride those insane rides at theme parks?”

“Ohh… yeah! Oh, my gods, Patton have you ever ridden – ” and he was off, talking a mile a minute to Patton who was hanging on to his every word.

Logan left to find someone sane to talk to.

“Oh, Mr. Prince-Fowl,” the nurse from earlier seemed to be on her way home. “Did you stop and see your cousin?”

“Yes,” Logan replied. “He seems to be enjoying his pain medication.”

She giggled. “They tend to have that effect. I am surprised he woke up so fast.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“That depends on what the doctor and physical therapist find tomorrow,” she replied hesitantly. “The pain medication might be masking certain things, but with the broken collarbone… been there, done that. Was not fun when they forgot to give me my pain meds last year. But if you’re here tomorrow you can ask them yourself. Should I have them pull out another cot-chair?”

Logan shook his head. “I’ll let the two love-birds have some time alone and return tomorrow,” he said. “They just met a few months ago. Patton can deal with Roman for a night when he’s high on pain medication; the time he had his wisdom teeth removed was bad enough.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said cheerfully as she gathered her things. “Have a good night!”

You as well.”

In the few minutes since Logan had left Roman had gone from talking a mile a minute to being completely passed out. Patton was watching him sleep with a contented look on his face.

“Make sure you go to your ‘big, scary numbers and gibberish test’ tomorrow, per Roman’s request,” Patton said suddenly, turning his attention to Logan. “He was very insistent that we had to make you go to it, something about showing the whole class up and showing the teacher you were smarter than they were.”

Logan actually smirked. “Well, I did point out that his answer was wrong while he was demonstrating. He insisted that _I_ was the one who was wrong until one of the other students also worked it out and called him out on it in the next class.” He paused. “But if they’re going to be running tests and checking him over I feel I should be here.”

Patton leaned back exhaustedly in his chair. “I think he’ll be pretty pissed at you if you did.”

He was right. Damn it.

“He probably would be,” Logan conceded.

Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?

OoOoO

The next morning came too quickly for Virgil, tucked between Joan and Talyn, who despite Brittney and company having moved even his bed into their spare room asked if he wanted to sleep with them. As it turned out, it was a good thing: he had a tangled mess of nightmare after nightmare, combining old tortures with new until he was afraid to close his eyes.

Ma’am beating him.

Martin and the others assaulting him.

Patton locking him in a dog cage.

Logan pushing him off a cliff.

Patton attacking him.

Logan listing all the reasons Virgil didn’t deserve him.

It was a very, very long list.

All the while, he was caged and Patton and Roman nodded along with what Logan was saying.

Each and every time he would wake up to Joan and Talyn talking to him, holding him, reassuring him, just being there as he panicked and cried and broke further inside.

Talyn had to help him apply his makeup to cover the bruises on his face because his ribs were too painful to let him raise his arms.

Thank gods all his classes today were lecture only; he did _not_ want to wrestle with a cow or goat or even a cat right now.

“You could just stay home,” Talyn suggested softly as they applied concealer to the worst of the bruises, their touch gentle. “No one would blame you, not even your teachers if you emailed them and told them you were injured in the rally.”

~~But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? It wasn’t the rally that injured you, it was your family giving you what you’ve been avoiding since that night in high school.~~

_I deserved worse for what happened to Roman._

Virgil shook his head. “There’s a guest lecturer coming in, one who has a seeing-eye dog. A lot of people will probably skip because it’s not class material. I wanted to be there, even before… all this.”

Talyn nodded but didn’t look happy. “Just be careful, ok? We’ll drop you off; I do _not_ want you riding the bus like this, got it? And we’ll pick you up. When does your last class end?”

“3:30.”

“Ok, cool. My last one ends at 2:50 and Joan’s is 4. We’ll come get you.”

Virgil chewed his lip.

Talyn poked his shoulder gently. “What is it, V?”

“You… you both go to UW, not MC. I don’t want to make you have to go out of your way…”

Talyn flicked his forehead with their finger. “It’s not, hon. Don’t make me call Joan in here.”

Virgil raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok.”

~~Hinderance.~~

~~Bother.~~

~~Annoying.~~

~~Worthless.~~

~~Freak.~~

~~Won’t be long now, will it?~~

_No. No, it won’t._

After Talyn had hidden as much of the bruising as they could they marked a small dot with eyeliner on the edge of Virgil’s hairline the size of a dime. “There,” they said, voice hard. “Now we’ll be able to get our answer.”

All Virgil could do was nod wordlessly.

OoOoO

The lecture was interesting. The guest lecturer named James and his see-eye German Shepherd Daisy gave a demonstration and talked about how they worked together, how they would ‘map’ out how he got to his classes so she could memorize how to get him to each of this classes and get around in general, how they used a mangled form of German for the commands so someone couldn’t tell her to do something she wasn’t supposed to do.

He also told them how on two separate occasions people thought it would be fun to light noise-making firecrackers and toss them behind the pair: both times he had jumped on top of her and shielded her, thinking it was gunfire.

Virgil didn’t want to know why he would have thought it was gunfire.

He went to his next two classes, hiding in the back of the room as he always did, keeping his head down and prayed he wouldn’t be called on, and took notes as best he could.

After the last class, Virgil went to the library in hopes of avoiding all the stares and questioning looks until four o'clock; he was dearly regretting not charging his phone so he had music…

But he did have his headphones. He pulled them out of his backpack and tucked the jack end into his pocket and put them on over his beanie, opened a book, and tried to study.

He failed.

Unthankfully, someone decided to bother him, standing at the edge of his vision, waiting to be noticed.

Logan.

Out of habit, Virgil removed his headphones. “Hey, Logan,” he said softly, his heart pounding painfully, sickeningly in his chest.

_He was going to find out… gods he hoped they were wrong, that Logan_ wasn’t _his Mate._

“How are you feeling?” Logan asked hesitantly, his posture stiff.

Virgil shrugged; he didn’t want to seem unappreciative to Roman’s cousin. “I’m good, thanks to Roman. H-how is he doing?”

Logan tucked his hands in his pockets, bookbag balanced on his shoulder. “Thanks to Talyn calling to find out how he was, very well. He had the pressure and bleeding in his brain taken care of and even managed to wake up last night, though he was very high on pain medication; talking about flying like Peter Pan and other nonsense.”

“That must have entertained Patton,” Virgil said, voice catching. “He’s always loved that movie.”

Logan eyed him silently for a moment, making Virgil want to squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass. “I’m surprised none of you reached out to Patton.”

_Shit. Shit shit shit…_

~~Serves you right.~~

Virgil’s eyes fell to the book open in front of him. “T-Talyn and Joan and Patton had an argument, and my phone broke yesterday.”

“Ah. I see. Are you staying with Joan and Talyn, then?”

“No, I’m in my apartment,” Virgil replied. “It’s on the bus route to get here.”

“I see,” Logan repeated, biting back a frown at Virgil’s obvious lies. “Well, Roman’s in room 412 if you wanted to visit.”

Virgil forced a smile onto his face as he started packing up his stuff. “Thanks, I just might do that.”

~~Another lie.~~

“Sounds good,” Logan said awkwardly. “Well, see you around, Virgil.” He turned and left.

Virgil’s heart fell through the floor.

There was a black dot on Logan’s hairline.

_Hold it together, hold it together…_

Nope. Not happening.

Virgil managed to get into one of the single-stall bathrooms on the first floor before collapsing.

Rage.

Pain.

Betrayal.

Sadness.

Anguish.

Broken.

He couldn’t breathe.

And then someone was there, gathering him into their arms.

_…Patton?_

~~Patton hates you. Everyone hates you.~~

Someone was humming as they rocked him, holding one of his hands to their chest as they breathed.

Four

Seven

Eight

In

Hold

Out.

Repeat.

Loss.

Anger.

Resignation.

Searing pain.

Cut.

Cut cut cut cut _cut…_

Panic.

Falling.

Agony.

Fury.

Vanilla.

Joan.

~~So annoying. So… bothersome, aren’t you? Can’t pick yourself up off your ass, always have to have others do it for you, don’t you, you disgusting piece of trash? What a shitty friend you are.~~

**Sorry,** Virgil managed to sign, repeating it over and over. **Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry…**

Joan hushed him, planting a chaste kiss on Virgil’s temple. **It ok, not your fault** he finger-spelled in Virgil’s field of vision. **Attacks happen.**

It took a couple more minutes until Virgil got his breathing under control even as his mind continued to spin and break apart and fall. He pulled away a little from Joan. **We go, please?**

Joan nodded and helped Virgil to his feet, snatching his backpack from him and slinging it onto their shoulder. They looped arms and headed out to where the parked car and Talyn were waiting.

“It _is_ him, isn’t it?” Talyn demanded, voice torn between anger and sadness.

Virgil nodded. **Yes.**

They reached over and took Virgil’s hand. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” they said softly. “I know this isn’t what you were expecting… just know Joan and I are here for you, ok? We love you, and we will always be here for you.”

~~Patton said the same thing.~~

_I know._

~~You know what you have to do, right? What is best for everyone?~~

_Yes._

OoOoO

Logan returned to the hospital after his last class to find Roman with his arm in a sling and far less high on pain medication.

Patton was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Logan,” Patton greeted, flicking the TV off. “I sent Patton down to the cafeteria to eat something before his stomach ate itself; you should have heard it!”

Logan nodded distractedly. “I’m sure.” He nodded to the sling. “For your collarbone, I assume?”

“Yup,” Roman answered. “Can’t be without it for at least six weeks, and then physical therapy to get full mobility back.” He hesitated. “There’s… something else I need therapy in.”

“Besides you and your head?” Logan said without thinking.

Roman laughed and threw an empty Jell-O cup at him. “Shut up!” then he sobered. “Apparently the swelling in my brain left me a little off-balance, something about the vestibular system, and they’re insisting that I take physical therapy for that, too, to make sure I can walk decently. Patton’s pissed about it.”

“Why would he be pissed because you need physical therapy?” Logan asked, confused.

Roman hesitated. “I think he and Virgil had a fight, or he at the very least yelled at him because I’m injured because of getting Virgil out of the way of the car. Anytime I asked he got short with me and he didn’t want to talk about Virgil.”

_Nothing like being stuck between a rock and a hard place,_ Logan thought. Out loud, he said, “I got that feeling, too, but didn’t want to press the matter.”

“I protected Virgil because he’s important to Patton, and he’s family now, isn’t he? But even if he had been a complete stranger I would have done the same thing. I wish Patton would see that and make up with Virgil.

_I don’t think it’ll be that easy; Patton_ struck _Virgil. More than once, based on the amount of make-up he was wearing at school today,_ Logan wanted to say, but thought better of it. “How long until they release you?”

“Couple days at the most,” Roman replied, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “I can’t wait to get out of here!” Then his smile faded. “Patton and Virgil… _did_ they have a fight after the accident? Patton won’t say a word on the subject.”

Logan hesitated; how much information would be too much? “They did but I am unsure of the extent of the disagreement.”

_Not that beating up your adoptive brother could be called just a disagreement, but…_

“I met them before, you know,” Patton said suddenly. “When I spent the week with Terrance. There were bullies beating up some shy kid and I stopped them. He never spoke a word to me let alone looked me in the eyes he was so scared. He signed something and then Patton showed up; I thought they were Mates then.”

“Did you tell Patton?” Logan asked, surprised.

Roman shook his head. “No. Until things improve between the two of them I don’t want to mention Virgil. He is doing ok, isn’t he? All Patton would say was ‘he’s fine, thanks to you’ and changed the subject.”

Logan hated lying but didn’t want to cause problems between his cousin and his Mate. “I saw him at school earlier and he seemed ok. Stressed, but ok.”

“Oh, hey, Logan.” Patton was back, bearing fruit, cereal, and muffins on a tray alongside cartons of white and chocolate milk. “How was your math test?”

“Easier than I thought it would be,” replied Logan. “I was one of the first ones finished.”

Patton set the tray down on the tray in front of Roman, whose eyes had gotten wide. “Oh, good! Not all that surprised though! Hey, d’you want to join us?” he motioned to the food on the tray.

Logan shouldered his bag. “No, thank you. Despite the next two days being in-service, I have three papers to write and some other homework assignments.”

And a performance to attend.

OoOoO

After getting Virgil’s permission Joan contacted Brittney and Trevor and asked them to come over; they were there in less than an hour. Talyn and Virgil – his head was resting in their lap – were watching a youtube series done by a tornado chaser called Pecos Hank; he didn’t freak out and start yelling every other minute and set Virgil off, and he would help turtles across the road and give other wildlife water and get them to safety, so he got props from all three of them.

“Hey, V,” Brittney said softly, sitting on the floor by the sofa. “mind if I lean against you?”

Virgil shook his head silently, eyes still on the TV as a video of Hank’s best lightning captures played and he talked about the different types there were.

Brittney used Virgil’s shins and the blanket covering them as a pillow, shooting a questioning look at Joan as Trevor sat down on the floor next to her.

**Virgil tell you when he ready.**

Twelve videos later, Virgil sat up; Talyn paused the TV.

**I know we talk about performance tomorrow, money go help people hurt at rally.**

Brittney and Trevor nodded; they had all had a group text conversation about it the previous afternoon.

**Also another thing… want you both know…** Virgil took a deep breath. **No mad at him –**

“If you’re gonna ask us to not be mad Patton, you’re wasting your breath – arms – because that bridge burned days ago.” Trevor interrupted.

Virgil shifted in his seat. **That, also something else.** He twisted his hands in front of him. **I just…** He paused, unable to continue.

**Rip off, like bandaid,** Joan signed.

Virgil nodded and took a deep breath. **We have proof. My Soulmate… is Logan.**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to be in the veterinary technician program at Madison College and we did have a visually-impaired person come in with their seeing-eye dog. The story about the fireworks is true.
> 
> If you're interested in storm-chasing I highly recommend Pecos Hank!

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't abandoned When Shadows Fall, I promise! This idea just hasn't left me alone, so here it is!
> 
> The Nebraska reference is to the Safe Haven Laws. It wasn't until 2008 that Nebraska changed their laws from any child up to the age of 18 could be left at a hospital down to only 30 days old.


End file.
